#and a few years later you might not even think about them unless something prompts it

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

one of my friends and i were talking about life and where we would be in a few years and it made me a lil bit sad

[night-ngale]

I'm Here to stay.

Chapter two.

Later that night Marinette met up with Chat noir to explain the ...situation.

Marinette or well should I say Lady red soundlessly landed on Eiffel tower right behind Chat noir.

“Chat noir.”

Chat jumped a foot in air, startled and turned to face her with his baton outstretched in his hand.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you pulling a Batman and appearing out of nowhere.” Chat lowered his baton, his ears flat against his head, but perked up when she giggled.

They were both high enough on the tower that the people down in the streets couldn’t see or hear the heroes.

The air between them was tense and awkward with both of them staring at each other not knowing what to say.

Dame rouge broke the silence by asking “So, I’m guessing you want an explanation for earlier.”

Chat noir nodded “Who is he? How do you know him?”

Marinette hesitated for a second, contemplating just how much she should tell him before sighing and ripping off the proverbial band aid.

“...He’s family.”

Chat gaped, a million questions running through his head and on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them down and listened patiently.

Figured he’d understand complicated family relationships better than most, given his father’s Hawkmoth, not that he knew that yet.

She turned away from him and faced the cityscape. And she had to agree there, Paris truly did earn the title of City of lights.

“It’s been a while since we last saw each other.” She laughed bitterly, thinking of all those days she spent grieving, not knowing if he was alive or not after news of the coup reached her “I honestly didn’t even know if he was still alive with all the rumours surrounding his ...situation.”

Chat looked pained with her confession, but he held his tongue.

He scooted closer to her almost touching her but still far away enough for her to feel comfortable.

It was quiet again. But she felt the urge to break the silence. And she might as well get it off her chest. It was high time she had this conversation with Chat. She’d been putting it off for too long already and today seemed as perfect as any other day to do this. After all what was one more emotional and slightly straining revelation?

“You probably know this is not the first time I’ve done this whole shtick.” Chat startled when she spoke, not expecting his usually private partner to talk unless necessary, much less about something this private.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick she observed him doing even behind the mask “Yeah I kinda figured that you weren’t new to the whole ‘fighting freaks’ thing after I saw you wipe the floor with bubbler.”

That got her to smile, even if it was just a small uptick. But Chat seemed to count it as a win.

She sat down on the edge of the tower and he sat right beside her without prompting.

It was silent again. Chat was waiting patiently for her to continue or just stay with her for comfort.

She swallowed heavily before speaking again.

“You know, there are usually only two types of people in our line of work.” Chat turned to look at her questingly at the abrupt change of topic but she resolutely avoided his eyes, staring down at the city below them “People who don masks everyday are usually either Heroes or villains. And until a few years back I was in the wrong side of that war. ” She might have heard Chat gasp, but she wasn’t really processing anything right now. “I only really donned the earrings to try and wipe out some of the red on my ledger.”

She clenched her eyes shut. Even after all these years it’s still hard to think about that time, to accept who she used to be. It’s gotten better after she met Sabine. Tikki and the other kwamis helped tremendously too, but it was still hard.

She felt strong arms wrap around her. It was an incredibly long and taxing day and it had been so long since she last felt this warm and safe that she just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

That night Chat noir saw his partner breakdown for the first time. He just held her as she cried and let loose all her emotions for the first time in a very long time. Even Hawkmoth didn’t risk interrupt them, not when Chat noir cataclysmed every akuma that even dared to come near them.

 

Bonus*

Chat looks at the time on his baton and winced. She had to agree, school tomorrow was going to be absolute hell.

He turns back to her and bows dramatically “Well M’lady, this cat has got to scat.” His jovial tone could not conceal his worry for her. No amount of acting and modelling classes were going to help him hide his emotions from her.

She waved off his anxiety.

He glanced back at her one last time, concern etched on his face, before he leapt off the tower with his baton in hand.

“Oh wait I forgot! You’re father is Hawkmoth!”

Chat noir’s grip slips and he falls off his baton.

Marinette curses as she unravels her yoyo to catch her frozen partner who was currently falling to his death.

“Damn it! I could’ve used more tact.”

Tikki can’t help but agree through their mental bond.

 *******

Hawkmoth and Mayura were defeated last week.

It hit Adrien hard, but he’s doing better now.

Honestly it was wonder he wasn’t akumatised. His emotions were all over the place.

Thank Kwami Hawkmoth was too busy panicking during the ambush to even think about sending out an akuma for Chat Noir.

But it probably wouldn’t have worked out too well for him either, considering all of Adrien’s emotions were targeted on him.

The fight was short. A quick in and out job with Gabriel venomed, Nathalie knocked out and the butterfly and peacock Miraculous safely tucked in her yoyo all in a matter of few minutes.

It was honestly a little disappointing. Hawkmoth spent so much time in his lair that his fighting skills were atrocious and Nathalie was little help in the battle, what with all her coughing.

They were neutralized so quickly, it was almost embarrassing.

Oh who was she kidding, it was totally embarrassing. For them.

Adrien had broken down when he saw his mother’s body hooked up to life support. She was still alive, if barely.

He broke down again when she told him that Emily Agreste could be saved.

He hugged her tightly, not letting her go even as their timers beeped down and she didn’t have the heart to push him off. So, that led to another awkward conversation where Adrien stared incredulously at his sweet and bubbly classmate who was supposedly an assassin and freaking Ladybug (Ugh she hated that name but the public were adamant to call her that.)

After a few more minutes of awkward staring(on her side) and incredulous(on Adrien’s) he finally nodded his head, apparently coming to a resolution.

“You know this actually explains a lot but also holy shit!”

The tension drained out of her frame and she started giggling, which soon turned into full blown laughter. Never change Chat.

But that was all in the past. Right now Marinette had more pressing issues than to think about some idiot who was in prison.

The media ban and the protective wards around Paris were lifted yesterday.

So now the entire world was in the know about the shitstorm that was Paris this past year. And that included the Justice League, who were all shamelessly persistent on meeting with her and could not take a hint despite the various times she had had to kick them all out of Paris.

She had finally agreed to meetup with them today (I mean there’s only so many times you can portal someone to the middle of the Pacific before giving up.)

But she was weary. Not only about the meeting but also about leaving Paris.

She had managed to dodge the League and their never-ending armies of assassins who were prowling the streets and even somehow in her school. (They were literally everywhere, like damn cockroaches. Everywhere you look you find them and no matter how many you squash, more come to replace them.)

She was leaving Chat alone with a few of the temporary heroes to hold down the fort while she was away.

She trusted them enough to leave Paris in their hands for a few hours, she really did! It was the League that she didn’t trust not to start shit while she was away.

So here she was, standing in front of her assembled heroes on some random Parisian rooftop giving them lecture after lecture on how to keep Paris intact for a few hours and to please call her if shit hit the fan and don’t try to tough it out yourself.

She transformed with Kaalki and turned back to wave one last time.

“Love you guys, be back by 7 and please please don’t let Paris burn down while I’m away.”

“Oh just go already.”

“We’ve got this.”

“Don’t worry so much, I mean what’s the worst that could happen?”

So with the questionable confidence given by her team, she opened a portal to the coordinates Wonder Woman had given her and stepped through hoping this wouldn’t come back to bite her in the butt.

She found herself in the Watchtower and honestly if it wasn’t for her assassin training she would have gaped like an idiot. But she’s not an idiot nor is an incompetent assassin, ex-assassin? So instead she walked up to the founding members of the Justice League looking the epitome of cool professionalism while she died on the inside. (Oh my god these assholes have a base in space!)

So this is what Damian meant when he said there was a surprise for her in the Watchtower. That cheeky little bastard.

Wonder Woman took the lead by kneeling down to one knee and bowing her head down deeply. “Chosen of creation, it is an honour to be in your presence sister.”

She bowed back in respect. “Princess Diana of Themyscira, it is an honour to meet you too.”

The rest of the Justice League did not seem to know what to make of this interaction.

Of the remaining of the trinity, Superman looked awkwardly between them, while Batman stared at her with an unnerving intensity that almost made her break out into a cold sweat. She was not going to get revealed now, and certainly not like this. Damian would never let her live it down.

Putting on her best poker face, she straightened up a cleared her throat, making almost everyone in the room jump. “Shall we start?”

Great. Now it was time to bullshit a room full of Heroes and detectives and make them think she was disclosing actually relevant and confidential information while in fact giving them nothing.

This was going to be fantastic.

 

*******

The meeting was going fine actually. So far they had discussed the charges against Gabriel and Nathalie, the impacts and repercussions of Hawkmoth’s reign and the effect on the citizens including the rehabilitation efforts taken. All common knowledge in Paris. Not that they seemed to know that.

She had artfully dodged every question asking about the Miraculous and where she and the other heroes had gotten theirs and how Hawkmoth had got his slimy hands on not one but two.

Everything was going better than expected, good even. All except for Batman. He did not stop staring at her through out the meeting and asked weird and completely unrelated questions. Even some of the other heroes had started giving him looks. She would have snapped at him much sooner if it wasn’t for Robin, who was seated right behind him making discreet cutting motions with his hand every time she turned to tear Batman a new one.

But honestly enough was enough. This was the twenty-fifth time (yes she counted) she could feel Batman’s unnerving and slightly creepy gaze zero in on her. And formalities be damned, father or not this overgrown furry was onto her and she was not letting it go. He was going down and 6 feet under. Damian would get over it.

She stopped mid sentence and turned to Batman with the sweetest and fakest smile she could muster. “Is there a problem monsieur Batman?”

Her voice was sweet as poison and her smile turned sharp. Batman narrowed his eyes, aware of the game she was playing and refusing to take part in it.

Well it seems he needed a bit more of a push.

“Do you have anything you want to say? I can feel you staring at me.”

Batman narrowed his eyes at her further till they were only white slits, but she just glared right back at him full force.

Meanwhile his brood all had varying responses.

Nightwing looked concerned. RedHood (ugh he has got to ditch that atrocious helmet.) seemed to enjoy the turn of events and looked invested in the drama. Red Robin, who looked forty with that hideous cowl took on discreet defensive stance and Robin looked two twitches away from face palming and sent her ‘what the hell are you doing?’ look.

Well what was she doing? She was getting herself a new punching bag. She needed someone to take out her frustrations on now that Hawkmoth and his minion were no longer viable options, so who better a target than the man who is supposedly your biological father and a right asshole towards your twin. That overgrown furry deserves everything he’s going to get.

And the only person who could maybe intervene and sell her out was not there. Lucky for her that BlackBat was in Shanghai along with Spoiler on a much needed vacation.

The rest of the Justice League looked between the two of them like they were at a tennis match with varying expressions of awe, fear and incredulity.

Marinette ignored all of them. Her glare was set solely on Batman.

A few minutes passed in a standstill and Batman grunted knowing it was his move. He tensed his muscles and visibly grit his teeth

“You’re an assassin.”

Well that was unexpected. She thought he’d say something more along the lines of ‘Who are your parents?’ 'Are you adopted?’ or maybe even ‘You are my daughter.’ Not whatever this is.

She blinked once but showed no other outward expression of shock.

Unfortunately the same could not be said for the rest of the Justice League. The Bats all tensed and fell into defensive stances, all except for Robin who whipped his head around to stare at his father in visibly obvious panic and shock. Wonder Woman and Aquaman both stood up and protested loudly, though one was more vehement in their objection. The rest of the Heroes all broke into various states of chaos after the statement left Batman’s lips.

Marinette meanwhile just crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. The squeak of her chair was all everyone needed to quiet down and seat their asses back down.

“Ex-assassin and well, so are you and half your brood.”

Batman almost growled out loud and the table creaked from the white knuckle grip he had on it.

The Justice League was apparently made up of colour blind and shameless heroes because everyone looked between them like they were watching an interesting tennis match and not a standoff that could potentially cause bloodshed.

The Bats (Except for Batman, who she was in the middle of a standoff with) were all glancing nervously at Robin, probably expecting him to unsheathe his sword and jump over the table to attack her. But surprising everyone but her, he stayed put.

RedHood was the first to crack, clicking the safety off his gun and pointing it at her. Something she expected considering his temper and less than stellar history with the League.

This caused anther uproar with everyone standing and arguing.

She was the only one seated now, arms crossed and looking almost bored. A stark contrast to the coiled and tensed forms of literally everyone else in the room.

“Why are you here?”

She looked up from examining her nails, giving that Red bucket the most deadpan look she could muster. “You asked me to come here.”

After a few seconds of flustered silence and muffled laughter, RedHood had apparently scrounged up enough of his dignity to ask again “You working for the league?”

She straightened at this, all mirth fading away from her and her eyes sharpening. She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward and the Heroes all tensed in unison. She looked RedHood right in the eye.

“Now why would I go back to a place I fought tooth and nail to get out of?”

“...”

The air was almost electric with how charged it was.

 

 

Buzzz

 

           Buzzzz

 

                        Buzzzzz

 

 

RedHood startled at the sudden noise and shot at her.

She was unfazed just deflecting the bullet with her wrist cuffs. The same could not be said for the rest of the heroes as they all violently flinched.

 

 

Buzzz

 

       Buzzzz

 

                Buzzzzz

 

 

Her yoyo was ringing, she picked it up, checked the caller ID and promptly cursed the universe and everyone in it to the high heavens.

“Oh for fucks sake Chat I’ve been gone for an hour!”

“Heyyy M’lady.” There were sounds of fighting in background oh and someone was screaming too.

“So I know you told us to keep Paris in one piece while you were gone and Paris is still intact- Hey!” A katana missed taking off his head by an inch. “But ces assassins stupides popped out of nowhere and started attacking. But thankfully their blades didn’t pierce our suits not for their lack of trying.” he muttered the last part quietly but she still caught it and narrowed her eyes further. Then there was a banshee screech and Abeille wailed ‘My hair!’ and everyone within a 40 mile radius who weren’t completely tone deaf winced at the volume. “Anyway bug we’ve pushed the assassins off the roof, we’ve tied them up and we threw them in the bin.” He ducked as ninja star whizzed right past his head. “but they *whack* keep *whack* coming *whack* back *whack* Like maudits cafards!” A huge explosion ringed out and everyone was thrown off “Anyway we’ve totally got everything under control but- watch the tail! But um it would be great if you could come back. Like right now. And- Wait no no no no not again! ” Another explosion ringed out and the call cut.

Silence.

It was completely silent for the first time in forever in the Watchtower.

She snapped her yoyo shut with a resounding click that echoed around the room.

She took a deep breath and looked up to face the other heroes, giving them a smile so sweet and fake it put American candy to shame.

“Well as you can see, duty calls.”

The entire Justice League stared at her in incredulous disbelief. And there was something satisfactory in watching the world’s mightiest heroes gape at her in complete speechlessness.

She opened another portal, forever grateful for the ‘use your power more than once’ power up potion, and waved at the heroes cheekily “Au revoir!” before jumping into the portal and leaving a gaggle of sputtering heroes behind her.

 

*****

The Justice League was in utter chaos.

Utter and complete chaos.

Damian was almost surprised by the amount mayhem his sister caused, but trouble always did follow after her like a lost puppy.

And while what she did was stupid.

And moronic.

And would definitely come back to bite her later.

He was mostly proud of her.

It was no easy feat to throw off his father. And it had been a long time since he had seen the Justice League this off balance.

He quickly wiped the smirk off his face. It would not help anyone if he got caught now. Marinette was not ready to meet father and he honestly can’t blame her. She hated mother and was right to do so, mother is a quote ‘piece of work’ and undeserving of Ukthi. But Marinette had also vowed to hate whomever their father was because anyone who Talia al Ghul decided was worthy of her and the al Ghul name was probably also a right nasty piece.

She lost most of her hostility once she discovered that the ever elusive ‘father’ was the Batman, but she was still suspicious. And he cannot blame her. While the League of assassins was horrifying and gruesome to him and was no place for a child to be anywhere near there, but Marinette had it much much worse. While he was the heir to the demon’s head and treated like royalty, she was the competition, a spare, a disgrace and most of all she was a girl.

 

Crash

 

He flinched slightly at the abrupt reminder that he was currently stuck in middle of the what would appropriately be termed a shitstorm.

Wonder Woman was having what Grayson called ‘an existential crisis’ and found it acceptable to throw her chair across the room.

Todd was staring at his hands in horror and was also having an existential crisis for shooting at a child. Tch Marinette is not just a child and she is more than capable of dodging a mere bullet.

Superman was holding Wonder Woman down and rest of the League were divided into two groups loudly arguing whether not Ladybug was working for Ra’s al Ghul.

But so far the most concerning was father. He was quiet, alarmingly so. And he had not spoken a word to anyone since Ukthi had made her dramatic exit. He was brooding and that spelled trouble for everyone involved.

Finally father stood up and the chair screeched loudly, silencing the argument. The eyes of the entire Justice League were on him, but he payed them no mind “We’re leaving.” Grayson started to protest “NOW.” He stormed out of the room with the rest of the pretenders following behind him dejectedly and leaving behind a room of gaping faces.

Hmm. Maybe dramatic exits were an inherited trait. He’s going to have to look into that. Mother also had a flair for the dramatics and it would certainly do no good if he was the odd one out.

 

*******

Being dramatic was definitely hereditary and a necessary trait if you want to be an Al Ghul much less an Al Ghul Wayne. Because then why else would Marinette open a portal right above the random warehouse the assassins decided would be an acceptable place to start a war and drop down onto the battle field like an avenging angel from the sky and knock out a horde of assassins from the impact of her descent alone.

Obviously, it was for no other reason than to sate her inner drama queen and to smirk at the gaping faces of her team.

It was like something out of a movie. Every single person, heroes and villains alike stopped to stare at her with conflicting emotions on their faces. But alas this wasn’t a movie but real life so the moment was broken by Chat being thrown off the roof.

“CHAT!”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I’M OK!”

The fight resumed as normal. But instead of being in a standstill, the Miraculous team now had the upper hand.

Now to get the League out of Paris once and for all, or at least keep them out for a month at most. They’d have to burn the Lazarus pit along with Ra’s al Ghul if they wanted to rid them of the world forever. And oh did they want to do that.

She started the incantation for the spell while kicking an assassin’s kneecaps out, before tripping another assassin into the one running towards her.

She took out a dagger from her pocket and started carving out symbols on the rooftop but stopped to stab the assassin that was stupid enough to attack her right in the gut before taking it out and throwing it at the one trying to sneak up her from behind.

She took out another dagger and continued carving and simultaneously kicking ass.

The spell was almost over. She just needed a few more things now.

“I NEED THE THUMB OF A MINION!”

A pause, before there was a screech and a bloodied thumb landed smack dab in the centre of her carvings. Then Ryuku landed right in front of her covered in blood that was hopefully (probably) not her own.

“Thanks Ryu!”

Ryuko curtly nodded at her and smirked, before calling on wind dragon and picking up half the assassins on roof and dropping them in the trash.

Now for the hardest ingredient to find. The blood of someone who has fallen from grace. As if hearing her thoughts, an assassin was thrown on the carving with a murderous Queen bee not far behind, screaming obscenities that should not be told anywhere near a child.

“tu es con! I will tear you limb by limb and slowly and painfully kill you for what you have done.” Her once beautiful golden locks were now something akin to a flaming dumpster fire with chunks of hair missing and a few strands literally on fire.

She gaped at Abeille for a good few seconds before an idea from hell popped into her head and she smirked evilly.

This was perfect. She wouldn’t find anyone else fallen farther from grace than this, well except Gabriel Agreste, but she’d have to go all the way to Penitentiaire Inrichting Vught to get his blood.

While Chloé was on her warpath, Marinette discreetly or not so discreetly grabbed the heiress's hand and cut her finger with her magical dagger deep enough for her blood drip onto the carvings. All the while the girl in question was still too lost in her rage to even notice.

As she said the last part of the incantation Magic crackled and the wind blew violently around her. And now for the last part, the blood of the spell caster. She took her magic dagger and cut a line straight along her palm and squeezed her fist, watching as blood dripped down her palm. When the first drop of her blood dripped onto the carvings the wind stooped the and the carvings lit up red before turning blue.

All the assassins froze, be it mid fight or mid getting their asses handed to them before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

Shame it was right as Abeille was about to pounce on her prey.

While it was fortunate for everyone else that the assassins were sent back to where they came from, it was unfortunate for her cause now Abeille’s murderous gaze zeroed in on her for stopping her from exacting revenge.

Marinette raised her arms in surrender slowly backing away from the furious and slightly homicidal girl.

“Bee, Bee I can fix this.”

Chloé was not appeased nor did she stop her warpath.

Chat noir, her ever loyal partner sacrificed himself yet again for her by tackling Chloé before she could pounce and scratch her eyes out. Chat was now subjected to the blunt of Chloe’s rage and judging by the fear in his eyes, he knew that too.

Carapace reached out to help his best bud but Rena held him back muttering something about it being too late now.

And she was right. Chat gave himself up to the devil for her and she won’t let his sacrifice be in vain. She would fix this and save him.

She straightened, determination brimming in her stance. Her eyes glowed a brief red and she slammed her hand on the ground, discharging waves of magic that fixed all the damage caused by the battle including Abeille’s disastrous hair.

Satisfied with having saved Chat’s life and barred the League from even setting foot in Paris for the next month or so, she yawned.

“Everyone head back to base and someone debrief me. I’m long over due for my nap.”

No one even tried to argue with her, it was a miracle if she even slept at all and everyone wanted know what happened with the Justice League.

[nostalgiachan]

Menzoberranzan Honeymoon

Sixth Prompt: Vier gets angry, why?

Mildly NSFW

Summary: Someone decided to write an incredibly obscene chapbook about Vier and Astarion, and one of them's less thrilled about it than the other (855 words)

---

The chapbook landed on the drawing room table before Astarion with a much louder thud than one would expect, breaking him from an almost meditative trance. As he looked up from his embroidery, he saw Vier on the other side of the table, a look of pure annoyance he’d scarcely seen before twisting her face.

“Whatever this is, I assure you I had nothing to do with it,” he preemptively apologized, though Vier quickly allayed his concern.

“Dear, you wouldn’t happen to be familiar with one Valhalaeria the Vaunted, would you?” she asked, her arms crossing over her chest. “Because I’d very much like to have a conversation with her.”

Astarion set aside his needlework and picked up the book, giving the outside a quick once-over. “Valhalaeria the…OH, now that I think of it, yes, I’ve heard of her. Popular smut author, yes? I think I’ve seen her work being read in a flophouse or two.” Vier certainly needn’t know that more than a few of Astarion’s most successful pick-up lines had been authored by this Valhalaeria. “But I can’t say I’m personally familiar with her. If I remember the rumors correctly, she works out of Waterdeep, and I haven’t been in that neck of the woods since…Oh dear, have I ever?”

His thought trailed off, but he quickly snapped back to attention. “I bet Gale’s intimately familiar with these, though,” he said with a smirk. He flipped the book back to the frontside, taking a look at the artwork printed on the cover - a linework drawing of two elves, each holding one another with arm and leash both, clothing halfway to sliding off entirely. As he looked closer, a few details about the lovers caught his eye; the female elf was rendered with very heavy cross-hatching, clearly intended to be a Drow, while the male elf had a rather magnificent head of hair, each curl and sweep lovingly drawn. Above the drawing, printed in large letters: Menzoberranzan Honeymoon. 

Astarion finally looked up from the book. “Is this…us?” he asked in disbelief.

“It’s someone’s sick idea of us, yes,” Vier spat in response. “Someone from the village sent this my way, said they’d picked it up on a trip to Baldur’s Gate. Apparently, someone’s been having fantasies about what you and I have gotten up to in the last year and decided to make a few copper off of it.” “And she didn’t even have the decency of asking us first?” Astarion huffed. “I could’ve told her all sorts of stories! Bet the old miser just didn’t want to give up any royalties.”

Vier pinched the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb. Leave it to Astarion to have some unique priorities. “I’m much more concerned with the fact that people might pick this up and not understand it’s fiction,” she sighed heavily.

“Oh, come now, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Astarion chided, “Why, I don’t think anyone would think you would, erm…” He quickly rifled through the pages until something caught his eye. “...couple with a drider?” The look in his eye made it clear to Vier that he’d immediately started wondering about whether she actually would. He flipped through a few more pages. “Oh, no, I absolutely know you’d do that,” he couldn’t help but purr. “Enthusiastically, too. Hmm, I might actually have to read this in earnest later. What’s it about?”

“We get married,” Vier explained, and Astarion nearly snorted at the word, “and I decide we should honeymoon in my home city of Menzoberranzan, where we get up to just about everything surface worlders think happens there. First: I wasn’t born in Menzoberranzan. Second: I’ve never been to Menzoberranzan. Third: I would never in my sane mind recommend anyone go to Menzoberranzan unless they desire death, enslavement, or both.”

As Astarion rifled through the pages, he still didn’t feel as though there was anything to get too upset about. It was fairly bog standard, albeit well-written, Drow-based obscenity, with a little vampiric spice mixed in. Perhaps Vier wasn’t thrilled with being written as a raging sex fiend who could outpace a succubus, but surely no one would take the wrong idea of her from this. But then, he found the page where “Vier” had to pass “Astarion” off as her slave in order to get him into the city at all…and he committed to his role deeply, so much that he’s quite happy to be passed around among the matriarchs and–

The chapbook was flung across the room with incredible force. “You know what, darling?” Astarion asked, his affect flat. “I think I get the issue now. What say you and I make a little trip to Waterdeep and see if we can’t pay this Valhalaeria a visit, hmm?”

“Purely friendly, of course,” Vier answered, visions of maces imbued with the power of the sun dancing in her head. “Nothing hostile, nothing untoward. Just a friendly request that she write smut of a more sanctioned kind. Absolutely.”

At that moment, somewhere on the highways and byways of Faerûn, a sickly shudder coursed down Volothamp Geddarm’s spine. Danger was coming.

[moth--knight]

hello can i PLEASE have a perspective flip for the end scene of sunday best in the car i require it for sustenance tysm kiss kiss kiss

I went a lil wild with it tbh. Oops! I love clueless Barbara, what can I say. Thank you so, so much for the prompt. Hope you enjoy ^_^

Melissa doesn’t look behind her as she rushes off, and Barbara can only give the unsettled teenagers a small smile before following her best friend across the parking lot. 

It is rare for her to follow behind Melissa. Which, she supposes, has its own sort of humor - Melissa was the hot-headed one between them, acting first and thinking later - and yet, when it came to Barbara, she was always a half step behind, channeling her boundless energy into a buzzing patience reserved exclusively for the kindergarten teacher’s benefit.

During Melissa’s first few weeks at Abbott, she had followed Barbara around relentlessly. She was young and charming and cared little for boundaries, the exact opposite of Barbara herself, only five years older but with self control others might call godly, in a manner half mocking half awe. Barbara couldn’t stand her. Melissa managed to always be behind her, with a thoughtful compliment or sly and clever witticism or some delicious baked treat, and always came off as casual, like she had just happened upon Barbara for the fourth time in the halls that day. Abbott wasn’t a particularly large school, but still. The likelihood? Utterly improbable. 

Every night she had gone home and complained to Gerald about this insufferable woman, who wore shirts cut a bit too low, pants a bit too tight, and smelled like cedar and lavender, and whose hair formed a blazing halo, impossible to ignore, this insufferable woman who had managed to gain the attention and adoration of her class overnight, who might even be a better teacher than Barbara herself, despite the lack of experience and overall respect for any sort of decorum. 

Melissa Schemmenti, who for some reason seemed obsessed with her, despite Barbara’s lackluster responses and polite deflections, and despite not really needing any of the guidance that Barbara was known for. No one bothered her unless they needed something, but what Melissa could possibly need from her was mystery.

Gerald, ever patient and sweet, had suggested sagely that perhaps the younger woman was just looking for a friend. New environment, and all that. 

“Why me?” Barbara had groused. 

“Why not you?” Gerald had replied serenely, hand over hers. “Give her a chance.”

And so Barbara had. 

But now, following behind Melissa, Barbara feels something sticky and sour lodge itself in her throat, because Melissa was upset in a way she’d never seen. 

Terrified, her mind supplies. Melissa had looked terrified, talking to those girls, and seeing such an emotion on her best friend’s face had shaken her to her core. Melissa Ann Schemmenti didn’t get scared. No, no, certainly not.

Or maybe, always half a step behind her, Barbara had never looked over her shoulder long enough to notice.

She unlocks the car as Melissa reaches her hand to pull the handle, perfect timing, and watches her slip into the passenger seat like she has for the past few months they’ve been coming to church together, red hair flicked over her shoulder, bright and beautiful against the dreary rain soaked landscape.

She slides in the driver’s side, buckling her seatbelt on autopilot, hands finding the wheel. 

Why was Melissa scared?

“I’m sorry.”

Barbara’s brow furrows, head snapping to Melissa. Her voice is small, like it had been after her divorce, like she was waiting for someone to raise their voice or hand to her. Barbara feels her heart crack in her chest. She doesn’t understand. She hates not understanding.

“Why?”

And then Melissa is rambling, about her niece, about her youth, and normally she’d intervene, redirect her (though she’d never admit it, the little displays between Zach and Jacob had felt eerily familiar) but there is something else there, something Melissa is saying but isn’t, skirting around the issue. Barbara feels utterly lost. Until she doesn’t.

“Yeah well, queers gotta stick together.”

Oh.

“I didn’t know you were a member of the LGBTQ+ community, Melissa.”

The words are stiff, uncomfortable in her mouth. 

Because they’re a lie, her mind whispers. You’re lying! 

“You don’t gotta be so formal about it, jeez.”

Melissa is queer. Of course. Of course. Barbara knew this, or suspected, at least - Melissa had never talked about it, but Barbara was observant, had noticed how her eyes lingered on the new art teacher in the early aughts, a woman with a streak of grey in the hair above her brow and a crooked smile, noticed the way women at PECSA would gravitate toward her the second Barbara would step away for another drink and the way Melissa would lean in, eyes flashing, tongue tracing the seam of her lips, like she was hungry - Barbara can’t say she didn’t know, because she did, she absolutely did, she just hadn’t thought about it, which is a different thing entirely.

Why hadn’t she thought about it?

“There are things you haven’t gotten a chance to experience yet, Babs. Things you can’t experience with me. I owe you that chance.” 

Gerald’s words, gentle as he slid the divorce papers across the table. 

“Gerald, what-”

“Talk to Melissa about it. She will understand.”

Barbara hadn't talked to Melissa about it, too ashamed, too confused. 

Melissa had smiled like she’d won the lottery when Barbara had greeted her today for church. But, then, Melissa always smiled at her like that, didn’t she? Like Barbara was the sun itself, something good and warm and perfect. 

Your work wife, Gerald used to tease her. You like her more than me, Babs.

Melissa, who was everything Barbara couldn’t allow herself to be, brash and loud and obnoxiously funny and aggressive and sweet and sexy-

She licks her lips, mouth dry. 

Oh. 

Oh.

And then it bubbles up from within her, uncontrollable, and she laughs and laughs and laughs, head pressed to the steering wheel. She’s an utter fool. Oh, Lord forgive her. 

“Barb-”

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, wiping away the tears of mirth in her eyes, “I’m not mocking you, sweetheart, I just realized - well.”

She has loved Melissa for a great many years. 

She knew for sure she loved Melissa back during their third year teaching together, when that huge snowstorm had knocked out half the power in Philly, including her own. Gerald, working nights, hadn’t been home to help, and Gina and Taylor, only 4 and 7, had been overtired and inconsolable. 

She doesn’t remember why she thought to call Melissa, but she had, and the woman had driven through the hellish storm with a portable heater in the back of her rusted old pickup and enough candles to give the Vatican a run for their money without question. She had even stopped and managed to score hot chocolate for Gina and Taylor from some late night gas station, probably the only one still open considering the weather, and then built the greatest pillow fort ever to be seen in the Howard’s living room. 

Barbara had fallen asleep in it with her girls cuddled close to her sides, under Melissa’s protective eye, and had awoken just the same. Had to make sure the heater didn’t bust, she had offered, eyes drooping with sleep, hair messily piled atop her head. There was an extra blanket draped over Barbara that hadn’t been there when she’d fallen asleep. She had stared and stared and stared at this wonder of a woman until the power had clicked back on, the cacophony of every electronic in the house springing to life waking Gina and Taylor, who immediately dragged a poor exhausted Melissa to the kitchen to make the breakfast. She’d made pancakes with smiley faces, and winked when she’d placed one in front of Barbara too.

She has also been in love with Melissa for a great many years, apparently. 

When she turns to look at Melissa, at the woman she loves - and good lord, how had she not realized sooner - she wants so badly to cradle her face in her palms, to smooth gentle thumbs across her soft cheeks, to trace the elegant bridge of her nose, to kiss away the crease in her forehead, to kiss her, properly, the way she had dreamed about once and written off as temporary insanity. 

For now, she settles with giving her a smile, all teeth and warmth and adoration.

“Thank you, for telling me.”

“It’s no biggie,” Melissa chokes out.

Barbara’s hand finds her knee, squeezes.

“It is to me, dear.”

FIN

[clericofshadows]

past meets present

Description: Regis runs into someone from the past while he and Zaeed are waiting for Kaidan to join them on their date.

Paring: Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko/Zaeed Massani

Note; Takes place a few years post ME3.

KA: Sorry loves, I’m going to be a bit late.  Meeting is running over with no end in sight!  

Regis checked his omnitool to see Kaidan’s message flashing at the top.  That explains why Kaidan hadn’t met them at Apollo’s, despite his usual promptness.

Regis glanced up at Zaeed, who also had his omnitool out.

“Sounds like we’re on our own for a while,” Zaeed said.  “That school keeps him so goddamn busy.”

Regis typed out a reply.  “Price he pays for not being on the station in person all the damn time.”

RS: Want us to go ahead and order?  We can wait for you. KA: Nah, don’t worry about it.  Don’t let me prevent you from eating.  Can’t have a grumpy Zee on our hands. ZM: I can see that. KA: I know :).  I’ve done enough chatting.  I can always ask you to get me something to-go.  It’s fine.

ZM: No, it’s not.  We’ll order as many goddamn appetizers as it takes to wait for you. KA: <3.

Regis took that as a sign he was done talking for now.  Zaeed reached over and grabbed Regis’s hand, lacing their fingers together on the table.  

The waiter–Alyx, if he remembered correctly, never being great with names–came back by, asking if they were ready for anything.  Regis went ahead and ordered them some fried chicken bites smothered with spicy peppers, and Zaeed opted for a platter of egg rolls and another beer. 

“Anything else, gentleman?” The waiter asked. “Usually I don't see just the two of you here.”

“We're waiting on our third.  He might be a while,” Regis replied, setting down the menu. “We’ll wait and order our usual when he gets here.”

“Of course. Just let me know.  I’ll go ahead and get those appetizers out for you.” The waiter left with a nod.

Zaeed finished off his first pint. “50 credits says this whole meeting could've been an email.”

“You say that every time.”

“So, are you taking the bet or not?”

Regis took a sip of his lemonade.  “No.”

“You’re no fun.”

Regis only smiled in response.  “You won’t be saying that later tonight.”

Zaeed rolled his eyes.  “Indulge me.  I know he loves this program, but how many times a month do we hear him bitching about the content of the meetings?”

“Price he pays for not being there in person,” Regis said again with a pointed look.  “Soon enough we’ll all be back on Arcturus, and I imagine then he’ll have no issues.  For now, this is the best thing they can do.”

“When did you get to be so diplomatic?” Zaeed snorted.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Regis started counting on his fingers to make a point.  “Galactic war and all the shit I had to deal with, post-Alpha Relay summits before Wren and Hackett got smart and used the resources I got for us, hmm… post-war summits and all that shit… Can I keep going or have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.  I guess you’re right.  We really can’t complain.”

“Not unless you want to do long distance.”

“Rather not.”

The waiter came back with their appetizers, setting the plates down along with three small plates and another glass of Zaee’s preferred beer.  Nice little touch.  They hesitated for a moment.

“Something wrong?” Regis asked.

They pulled a face.  “Depends.  I know you typically like a quiet evening and all… but there is a woman over on the balcony inquiring about you.”

They were right.  Neither of them were particularly fond of the attention that lands on them at all times, although the luster had died down since the end of the war.  Still, there were fans who wanted to meet the great Admiral Shepard, and Regis always turned them down. He is not some prize to look at.

On the off chance it was something interesting… “Did she give a name?” Regis asked.

“She did.  Rahna Akar.”

Regis found himself dragged by… Kaidan?  Was that his name?  He was too distracted looking into his eyes, nothing but kindness and a beautiful dark brown full of warmth.  Either way, he was the one good thing so far out of this fucking place. “Come on, let’s meet more people!  You can’t hole yourself up in there all the time.  Let me introduce you to Rahna, she’s one of our dorm buddies.”

A blast from the past.  Interesting.  And Kaidan isn’t here to witness it.

Even Zaeed quirked an eyebrow at that.  Regis nodded, curious to hear from her.  “She’s fine to come over.”

“Oh?  Alright, I’ll let her know.”  They walked away.  Regis watched as they approached a table far from them, right next to the balcony. 

There was a woman sitting alone, clothed in a simple, but professional dress Regis sees often on the Citadel.  He couldn't make out her face just yet, but as she got up, he immediately recognized her.  Older, yes, but still the striking woman that was part of their friend group at BAaT.

Well, part of Kaidan’s group.  Regis took a lot longer to warm up to anyone that wasn’t Kaidan, still angry about not learning biotics from Vik. Still, his mother’s decision led him to Kaidan, and he can’t really imagine a universe in which he didn’t meet up during BAaT.  And through that, they met Zaeed.

Regis can’t really bring himself to be angry about it anymore, knowing what BAaT gave him in the end.

Rahna approached them, standing next to their table, glancing down at the empty chair.  “You’re looking well, Regis… or is it Admiral?”

“It’s Regis,” he said.  “How’s life treating you?” 

“Well, all things considered… When I saw you, I thought that…” she trailed off.  “Never mind.  I guess I shouldn’t ask for much after everything.”

She wanted to see Kaidan, not that he was surprised.

Regis shrugged.  “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.  Not really, anyway, if that’s what this is all about.”  He moved to grab an egg roll and a couple of pieces of chicken, pushing them onto his plate.  “This is Zaeed, our husband.  Apologies for not immediately introducing you two.”

He nodded at her but didn’t offer anything else in response.

“Yes, I thought I recognized him.  I’m Rahna,” she said, belatedly.  “I apologize for the intrusion.  If I caught you off guard, then you most definitely did for me,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Sit,” Zaeed said to Regis’s surprise.  “Kaidan was held up by something, but if you want to speak to him, now’s your chance.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t want to intrude,” she hesitated in her tone, but her hand already went to the chair.  “I’ve already eaten.”

Regis wanted to be a bit of an ass and say she already intruded, but he bit his tongue.  Zaeed seemed to pick up on it, though, hiding a grin behind his drink.  “Sure, go ahead.” “Thanks!” She brightened up, taking a seat.  Their waiter came back and asked if she needed anything.  She asked for a glass of water.

The atmosphere of the table was a bit awkward, Regis and Zaeed digging into their food while she waited for her drink, later sipping at her water after the water brought it by.  

“So,” she started.  “I guess you know everything, Zaeed?”

He nodded.  “We don’t keep secrets from each other.  I know what happened, every goddamn bit.”

“It’s been a long time since then,” she said, not quite meeting their gaze.  “We’ve… you’ve changed a lot since then.”

“Never thought the bratty angry kid could become the savior of the galaxy?” He asked but tried to keep it light.  It must’ve failed by the way she seemed to flinch a bit.

Probably not helped by his cybernetics.  He knows his glowing eyes are off-putting to some, and with his scars and general attitude, he’s not the nicest guy out there.

It also doesn’t help that Regis had a crush on Kaidan from the beginning and admittedly, never got on well with Rahna as a result of that.  He tried to be civil for Kaidan’s sake, but it didn’t always work out.

“Well, no–sorry–” she started, but Regis interrupted her.

“No, I’m sorry,” he sighed.  “I was a bitch during BAaT.”

“You really were,” she laughed, and Regis had to hold back a dark look.  “I swear I’ve never seen anyone so jealous.  Kind of surprised me to see your wedding pictures on the ‘net… hell, my husband immediately showed me the details.”  Regis held back a frown.

Married and with a spouse who knows at least some of the details from BAaT.

“You’re married?” Regis asked, not noticing a ring on her finger.  She was, however, wearing a necklace with the pendant noticeably tucked into her neckline.  Regis didn't think anything of it, often doing the same with his rings, keeping him close to his chest.

“I am, yes,  Nearly ten years now,” she said.

Zaeed gave Regis a questioning look before asking, “Regis can be a jealous bastard at times, yes, but never with us and what we have.  What are you trying to pull?”

Regis wasn’t going to comment on it, but Zaeed had a point. 

She frowned.  “I’m not trying to pull anything.  Last I saw Regis… well, it’s not important.  Sorry if I caused any offense.”

Regis waved it off, but something about her comment still stung.  He wasn’t about to fully let it go, throwing out one last comment.  “Communication is key, and one thing that we’ve always tried to be good at.  Only way we can make this work.  Didn’t really have a lot of that back in the day, did we?  Goes a long way to clearing the air.”

Her face stayed carefully stoic.  “It’s good that you both found so much happiness despite everything.”

More like in spite of everything.  Regis dropped it, for now.  Now’s not really the time to be petty, but a small, dark, and vindictive part of him was happy that he was the one that helped Kaidan in the end.   “I’m glad to hear you did well, too.  Still use your biotics?  Or did you go for the program to tamper down the L2s?”

She nodded, loosening up a bit.  “You and Miss Lawson did incredible work on that, by the way.  Yes, I went for the reduction.  Wore a low-power, low-energy amp for years until you came up with that method.  I feel… a lot freer now.”

Regis and Miranda spent time trying to improve amp and implant structure, as well as introducing more ways to use cybernetics in the field of medicine.  Kaidan’s biotic school was his pet project; Regis’s was his cybernetics programs.  With Miranda’s knowledge from Lazarus, they were able to reverse engineer parts of the L2 and give recipients of the implants two major choices: refit with an upgraded implant with fewer risks, or downgrade down and lose most, if not all biotic ability.  Vikram also got involved, using their centuries of medical experience and biotic implant knowledge to get their methods out there.  A third, lesser chosen option was to retrofit the L2 with some improvements to further reduce risk, but not all side effects were lost. 

Kaidan, like him, still uses the L2.  It’s been a successful program, and these days Regis is happy enough to spend his time overseeing that.  He’s still an Admiral and a Spectre, but not as out in the field as much.

The Normandy is in new hands.  Much of the crew has gone their separate, but happy ways.  And soon enough, Regis might find himself living damn near full time on a space station.

Who knew?

“I’m glad to hear it’s been useful to you,” Regis said, hoping the sincerity was coming through.  “BAaT made many things clear to us.”

“If I ever have kids who manifest, I know who I’m sending them to.  I really should be saying this to him, but…” she trailed off, and Regis had a feeling he knew what she was about to say.

Before Regis could say anything, his omnitool pinged.

KA: Meeting’s done, I’m heading down as fast as humanly possible.

Zaeed opened his omnitool and a smirk appeared on his face.  Oh no.

ZM: Could it have been an email?

Regis rolled his eyes and gave him a pointed look.  Rahna looked at them in a hilarious expression of pure confusion.

KA: No, Zee, it couldn’t. ZM: Dammit.  Anyway, we have company. KA: You… do?

RS: What Zaeed is trying to say is that we ran into someone unexpected.  Rahna.

Kaidan started typing and stopped, and then started again, and then stopped again.

Finally, he sent a message.

KA: Wow.  That is unexpected.  I guess she wants to talk to me?

RS: I’ve gotten that impression, but we’ve had a good conversation so far.  I won’t spoil all the details.   KA: Of course not.  Be there soon. XX

Regis and Zaeed sent kisses in response before powering off their tools.

“He’s on his way,” Regis said, and she immediately seemed to tense back up.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” Zaeed said, his voice taking on a tender tone.  

“I really shouldn’t be worried.  Kaidan was always such a sweetheart, and then–” She made a motion with her hand.  “That was all I could see.  Still see, sometimes.”

Regis wasn’t about to admit that Vyrnnus stopped haunting his dreams many, many years ago.  Kaidan coming in and saving the day changed the narrative for him.

Instead for her, it was likely another nightmare.  He understands.  Being an Alliance spacer kid meant he was used to death, to an extent, already getting some training for self-defense and shooting lessons.  

Someone like her?  A good life with a rich family?  

“Something tells me you never saw it that way,” she continued.

“Why?  Because of my feelings for Kaidan?  Or because of what I’ve become with my Alliance career?” Regis asked.  He didn’t want to be accusatory, but quite frankly, he wanted to know where she was going with that.

If she says Torfan, he might just get up and leave.

“No.  I could see it in you when you Stasised him.  You claimed the power shift was accidental, but was it really?  I remember you talking all the time about your uncle who should’ve been the one training you, and that Vyrnnus will get his one day,” she admitted carefully.

Damn.  He had to give her props for that, but he hated her tone, as if she was trying to trap him into admitting something.  

Regis took a few bites of his chicken before pushing the plate away, washing it down with a bit of lemonade.  “It was accidental. I did want to Stasis the son of a bitch.  But sometimes, biotics can be just as much about intent as it is about the mnemonic.”

He made sure her gaze was locked onto his. “The only thing I would change would be to trade places with Kaidan.”

She looked away. “How could you… never mind.  It… messed him up, didn't it.”

“That's an understatement if I've ever heard one,” Regis scoffed. “But I'm not really the one you should be saying this to. I wasn't shunned, he was.  And all of you were blind to what he did to save us all.”

But Kaidan forgave her and them a long time ago.  Regis wanted him to forget about them, they were nothing.  Yet, that wasn’t Kaidan.

“You grew up knowing biotics.  None of us did!  And we saw what we could do if we were pushed too far, what we could do to each other.  He broke my arm, and the next thing I knew, he was dead!  Was killing him really the answer?”

Yes, it was, he wanted to yell. 

“I don't blame you for feeling that way, but a strong support from all the students who suffered under his torture would've gone a long way.  Thankfully, he was cleared anyway, as was I,” Regis replied, choosing not to rise to the bait. “That kick he managed is nothing compared to what we can do.  Being scared of what we can do is probably what they wanted anyway. As far as I know, Kaidan and I were some of the only L2s that actually went somewhere in the Alliance.”

Zaeed whistled, getting their attention.  He held up his omnitool. “He’s about to be here, coming up from the elevator.”

Rahna settled back down in her seat.  “I kept in contact with some.  You're right, most of us found ways to get rid of our ‘gift.’ You, however, can't blame us for how we felt.  I was a scared teenager in immense pain, and–”  She stopped, her gaze focusing on something behind him.

Regis opened his mouth to reply, but Kaidan cleared his throat behind them. Ah, right. How much did he hear?

He sat down in the seat between Zaeed and Rahna. 

“Looks like you've been having a productive conversation without me,” he said diplomatically, nodding at Rahna. “Good to see you. You look well.”

Regis could tell Kaidan was keeping his voice carefully steady, carefully flat.  Not a good sign. 

“You do too,” she said, her voice taking on a similar tone. “Married and Alliance life seems to be treating you well.”

“That it has,” he said, breaking out into a genuine smile.  It was quickly lost.  “I could tell things were a bit tense when I arrived.”

“It's not easy talking about BAaT,” she began. 

“No shit,” Regis interjected.  Kaidan gave him a sharp look. 

“What, I'm not wrong!” Regis said, defending himself. 

“No, but you don't have to be an ass about it,” Kaidan said with a sigh. 

Regis rolled his eyes but stayed silent anyway. 

The waiter came back by. “Ah, your third has come!  Would you like for me to put your usual in?”

“Might as well,” Kaidan said. “Unless you have any objections?  Rahna, would you like anything?”

Still dancing around the main topic. 

“No, I’ve eaten already.  Thanks anyway,” she said.  

“Our usual, then,” Kaidan said. “And could you give us some privacy?”

“Of course.  Just signal for me if you need anything.  I’ll return with your food,” they said before walking off, returning a moment later to give Kaidan a pint of beer. 

Kaidan took a long, slow sip of his drink before breaking the silence.  “Why exactly did you want to talk to me, Rahna?  To apologize?”

“Well–yes,” she started to say.  “I never knew what happened to you, other than hearing that BAaT was shut down.  And then years later you appear in the news, and kept appearing…”

“I forgave you a long time ago,” Kaidan said.  “And honestly?  I don’t want to hear it.  It’s long been in the past.  We were kids.”

“You did?” She looked at Regis, who decided to say nothing.  He knew that Kaidan did.  He could’ve told her and sent her on her merry little way, but he couldn’t help being curious about what she wanted to say to Kaidan after all these years.

Hell, even Regis couldn’t really blame everyone for their reactions, but that didn’t mean he wanted to invite anyone over for drinks and reminiscing anytime soon.  It was a betrayal, no matter how anyone framed it.  “But–”

“But what?” Regis asked.  “You heard him.  It’s done.  And I made sure he could work through it, as the only kid there who stood with him.”

“Regis…” Kaidan started, giving him a warning look.

“What?  It’s true.  I’m not the only reason why you were able to be comfortable as a biotic again, but I sure as hell helped,” Regis said, not backing down.

Rahna shook her head, standing up.  “I don’t even know why I bothered with your goddamn guard dog here.  It was good seeing you, Kaidan, and I’m glad life has treated you well.  Regis?  Thank you for your cybernetics program, but honestly, I shouldn’t have expected anything different out of you.”  She gave Zaeed a nod, who inclined his head in response.  Regis couldn’t even tell what he was thinking right now.

“Rahna, wait,” Kaidan said, standing up.  

“I’ll go,” Regis said, standing up and tossing his napkin on the table.  “Tell Alyx to pack my food for to-go.  I’ll be in the Spectre range if you need me.”

This is purely between Kaidan and Rahna.  He doesn’t need to be there, especially when his opinions haven’t changed after all these years.

Kaidan risked punishment after he broke free of his guards to try and clear the air, to talk to her before he was sent away.  Hell, he remembered Kaidan recalling the guards drawing their weapons when he flared out, trying to get one last moment with her, to explain himself and get what to understand. 

And she turned away with only a goodbye.

Regis walked off without a second glance back, hearing Kaidan call his name as he rounded the corner to the elevators.  He pressed the call button and stopped to put his earbuds in when he saw Zaeed walking towards him with his jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Did Kaidan send you after me?” Regis asked, crossing his arms.

“No, I left because their conversation is none of my goddamn business.”

Fair enough.  It had to be awkward for him. 

“Are you going to say it's mine?”

He shrugged.  “I know what you went through, but is she really the bad guy here?”

The elevator doors opened.  They stepped inside, Zaeed moving to hold his hand.  Regis couldn’t help but smile.

Regis inputted their destination.  “No, but she represents everything that caused Kaidan to shrink into himself.  He was confident, open with his biotics.  Directly after?  Well, everyone was terrified.  But Rahna?  She turned away from him after he tried to fight to talk to her one last time.” Zaeed nodded.  “Kaidan told me everything.”

“I know.”

“And you also told me everything.”

The doors opened and they stepped outside, making their way to the Spectre office tucked away in the embassies.  “What are you trying to say?”

“Both of you are too damn biased when it comes to her.  His crush on her has long since fizzled out, but he still cares for her.  Your opinions on her haven’t changed one bit.”

“Neither has hers on me,” he scoffed.  “We were never that civil with each other, although we tried to be for appearances.  Also to save ourselves from punishment.  Can’t be seen fighting.”

Zaeed grumbled out a curse.  “The more I hear about what you went through, the happier I am he is rotting somewhere.”

“You know I’ll drink to that.”

As they walked up the stairs, they noticed a familiar face about to enter the offices.  Ashley was waving her credentials to the door, clothed in a comfy techwear inspired outfit.  “What the hell are you two doing here?” she asked, keeping the door open for them.

Regis nodded at her in thanks, barely listening to the VI announce their Spectre statuses and Zaeed’s associate status.  “Long story.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she replied, rolling her eyes.  “Thought the three of you were supposed to be on some hot date.  What happened?  Clearly not a fight, but something… I don’t know… awkward?”

She knows them too damn well.

“Right on the money, Ash,” Zaeed replied, sitting down in front of the range.  “How much do you know about BAaT?”

She made a face.  “Oh no.  What happened?  I don’t know like, everything, but I know how it shut down.”

“Then you know enough,” Regis sighed.  “Did Kaidan ever mention someone named Rahna to you?”

She nodded.  “Break during N training.  Yeah, he talked a bit about BAaT and you and what he did in the end to protect her.  Was a bit tight lipped about her, though.  All I was able to get out of him was that they stopped talking after what happened.”

Regis pulled a face.  “Well, that’s one way to put it.”

He started to tell his version of the story, but Zaeed cut him off.  “No, you’re too goddamn biased.”

“And you aren’t?” Regis asked.  Ashley looked between them and shook her head.

“Least biased about her,” Zaeed said, putting his hand over Regis’s mouth.  Ashley laughed. He licked it and when Zaeed didn’t budge, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

Zaeed told her what was, admittedly, a nicer version of what Regis would’ve described, removing his hand from his mouth in the middle of the story.

“Yeah, can hold one hell of a grudge.  You were jealous,” Ashley said, giving him an unimpressed look.  “Not that I’m surprised, but even after all this time?  You got the man–you got two men–and you’re still trying to pick a fight with her?”

“It’s not about what Kaidan felt for her.  It’s about what she represents,” Regis said.  “Kaidan struggled to see himself as a biotic, as someone who was even human.  I wasn’t scared of him, but I sure as hell was scared for him after seeing the rest of our class stepping away from him after what he did.  Rahna said he was Mr. Popular, but hell, she was the queen.  And I get why.  She was nice, always willing to lend an ear, knowing what to say… but that day, I saw nothing but betrayal.  We were saved from our goddamn torturer, and yet suddenly, he wasn't the only monster in the room.”

Ashley sat down next to him.  “God… I knew it was bad, but even from your perspective… they must’ve grilled the both of you.”

“I got off easy compared to him,” Regis said quietly.  “Thankfully, the higher ups saw it in a similar way, as did the turian courts, but the damage was already done.  I made sure we stayed in contact, and I was there for him when I could be in-between my studies and his own online programs.” Regis closed his eyes.  “I remember something he said one night.  We were still young, not even enlisted yet…”

Kaidan brought him to their apple tree.  A large one up on a hill, all by its lonesome away from the rest of the orchard.  It was special, one of the first on the property.  Or something.  It seemed to have a lot of stories. Either way, it was Regis’s favorite.  Away from prying eyes.  An inspiration for the tattoo of the tree on his right arm, combined with Norse imagery to be his own yggdrasil.     They kissed each other, soft and sweetly on a warm blanket, underneath the starry sky.  In between kisses and loving words, Kaidan said something to him that nearly broke his heart, the way his voice rasped and cracked.  “Regis, you make me feel human.” “I shouldn’t have to.  You are human, every glowing bit of you.” “Yes, yes, I know… how many times have we had this discussion?” “Far too many.  But if me being here with you helps…. I don't plan on leaving anytime soon.” Kaidan kissed him again, this time with more heat and passion behind it.  Regis returned it with the same intensity, pulling him in close to press up against him. “Kaidan, I love you,” he said, breathing out those special words for the first time against his lips.  “I love you, too, Regis,” he replied. And they enjoyed their night together underneath the stars.

Regis left that last bit out when recounting the story–for Ash’s sake, Zaeed has already experienced the ‘Alenko Tradition’ a few times.  “That’s why I can’t simply bring myself to forgive and forget.  Or hell, to forgive and not forget.  Whatever.”

“I guess I get it,” Ashley said, “even if I do think you should’ve at least tried to be nice about it.  But then, I remember who I’m talking to…”  

Regis shrugged.  “I tried, I honestly did.  But then she looked at me when Kaidan said he forgave her a long time ago and  I couldn’t help it.”

“Sometimes it is best to just walk away,” she sighed.  “Well, want to vent your frustrations against a couple of targets and prototypes?” She pointed behind her to the range, and Regis was glad to finally stop talking about goddamn BAaT.

“That’s why we’re here,” Zaeed grinned.  “Lead the way, Ash.  I’m looking forward to seeing what secret shit is back there this quarter.”

– –

They weren’t in the range long, testing out some new HK guns and modifications.  Regis was quite impressed with their new pistol line, but its handling still paled in comparison to his faithful Eagle line.

Either way, it was fun shooting the shit with Zaeed and Ashley, with some friendly competition thrown in for good measure.  Regis still reigned supreme with snipers, but he could concede to their handling with other weapons.

To this day he still holds some of the best marksman records at the Villa.

In between rounds, his omnitool pinged.  He removed the heat sink from the pistol and placed it on the bench, checking his omnitool with a raised eyebrow when he saw who it was from.

KA: She’s gone, if you want to come back and heat up your food when you get home. RS: We’re at the range.  Ran into Ash.  Did… everything go well? KA: Come home and find out.

A moment later, Regis saw his monitoring logs pop up with a message.  

Kaidan Alenko logged out of the server.

Zaeed shook his head and started to place the Spectre modified Harrier back on the rack.  

“That’s… not a good sign from either of you,” Ashley observed.  “Need me to come with for backup?”

Regis damn near took her up on the offer because for once he couldn’t read Kaidan through text.  “No, this is my shit and I’ll deal with it.”

“I think you’re making this out to be far goddamn worse than it actually is.  I doubt he’s mad, just annoyed,” Zaeed said, crossing his arms.  

“Which is arguably worse,” Regis sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “I wish I never told Alyx to bring her over.”

“No, you don’t,” Zaeed rolled his eyes.  “You enjoyed finally being able to tell her how you feel.  You just don’t like that Kaidan was nice about it.”

Regis stayed silent, which was answer enough by the way Ashley laughed at him.  “Don’t keep your man waiting.  We can do this together another time.”

“Next time, with all three of us,” Regis said, giving her a hug.  She returned it tightly before waiving them off.

The trip back to the elevators and later to a rapid transit terminal went fast enough, but now in a bit of a haste to see Kaidan and figure out what had happened during their conversation.

Logging out was deliberate.  They typically stay idle most of the time, never logging out unless they need to go dark for a mission. 

Regis wasn’t sure what to make of it.  And neither did Zaeed, by the way he kept glancing over to him in the skycar.  Caught in the middle of something that he was never a part of.  He kept a reassuring grip on Regis’s hand, holding it tight between them.  

Once they exited the skycar on the Strip, they made quick work getting up to the apartment, not wanting to delay any further.  

Regis unlocked the door and saw Kaidan inside, on the couch next to the fireplace, curled up the knitted red, blue, and yellow blanket Hannah got for them as part of her wedding gift.

He knew the red and blue version that Adrian gave to them before they enlisted was secretly from her, but never said anything.  That next gift was her way of knowing that he knew.

Things have changed some since he was an angry teenager who just wanted more freedom.

Regis took a moment to kneel down and take off his boots before joining him on the couch.  Kaidan smiled at them and grabbed the blanket, motioning for them to join him.

Maybe things were going to be better than Regis had thought. Maybe him logging out was the signal that meant he wanted some comfort from them as soon as possible.

Regis curled up next to Kaidan, with Zaeed joining them a moment later, making sure the blanket was all settled over them as they cuddled up on their large, comfy couch.  Regis noticed a mug full of something steaming and hot.  He inhaled and smelled a hint of chocolate and sugar.

“Did you two have fun with Ash?” he asked, breaking the silence.  “Heard we got a new shipment of toys to try out.”

Regis wasn’t going to comment on the obvious distraction from the main issue at hand.

“It did, and we did try out some new shit.  Regis still thinks his damn Eagle is the best thing on the market, which is a fucking lie if I ever heard one,” Zaeed said, pressing a kiss on the back of Regis’s neck where his old biotic squad symbol tattoo lied.  

Regis smiled, knowing the man behind him couldn’t see it.  “You just don’t have any damn taste.”

“Look at who is sitting on this goddamn couch with me and ask me that again,” he replied, throwing an arm around him.

Kaidan moved to lean against Regis’s chest, which prompted him to lean into Zaeed’s.  “You won’t be winning that argument, love,” he chuckled.  “We’ll need to meet up with her and get a good performance review to… HK, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Regis hummed.  He kissed the back of Kaidan’s head.  “What’s going on in that head of yours?  I’m sorry for bailing on you.”

“I hear a ‘but,’” Kaidan said, but it was good-naturedly.  “No, you’re not.  And that’s perfectly fine.”

“But what isn’t fine?” Regis asked.  “What’s going on?” he repeated once more.

Kaidna let out a long, slow sigh.  “We had a conversation.  Caught up with her and how she’s doing.  Kept dodging her insistence there was something she needed to apologize for.  At this time?  Really didn’t fucking matter to me.  I worked through it, it's all in the past.  She tried to get a snide word in or two about you, which well, I expected that.  I’m sure you did the same to her, only fair.”  Zaeed snorted at that.  Regis didn’t deny his observation.  Kaidan turned a bit so he could look at Regis.  “No, it went fine.  Just… throughout that conversation, I wondered if BAaT had weighed far heavier on her than it did for you and me, even after what we did.”

It took him a few years to wear him down and change the language to ‘we’ and not just ‘I’ when it came to their role in taking down Vyrnnus.   Because Regis was involved.  That Stasis changed everything.  Gave Kaidan the perfect shot.

How could he ever say it was only him?

“I’m sure it did,” Regis said.  “Her arm was broken badly by our abuser.  Of course it changed her in ways that we can’t ever relate to.”

“That’s probably one of the nicest things you’ll say about her,” Zaeed murmured, just loud enough for the both of them to hear.  Kaidan sent him a jolt of dark energy in response, enough to sting like a pinch.

“Anyway,” Regis turned to give Zaeed a look.  “None of us came out of Jump Zero the same way we were when we came in.  She had a few things to contend with…”

“Vyrnnus, me, and what we went through at BAaT,” Kaidan finished for him.  “I think a part of her wanted to apologize probably more for her sake than mine.  I get it, but I worked through it.  And she needed to understand that.”

“Would you have preferred if I told her that right from the beginning?” Regis asked.

She probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway, but at least his heart would’ve been in the “right place.”  

Kaidan came to the same conclusion.  “Nah.  I get the impression she would’ve thought you were trying to get her to go away.  Why did you say yes anyway?”

Regis shrugged.  “Curiosity.  Wanted to see how she was doing, but also, I couldn’t help myself.  Sorry.”

“You are not sorry,” Kaidan gave him an unimpressed look, but that was about usual with them, with a smile tugging at his lips.  He shook his head.  “She offered her link, but I didn’t accept it.  Just said if she needed anything concerning biotics to contact you or me through our respective programs.”

“How did she take that?” Zaeed asked. 

“Fine,” Kaidan replied.  “She did spend a lot of time being so surprised about my relationship.  She got the Regis part–” Regis snorted at that.  “--but not so much you.  I told her I fell in love with two incredible men at two points in my life and I couldn’t see life any different.”

Zaeed leaned over Regis to peck Kaidan on the lips.  “You’re too goddamn sweet.”

“Well, wasn’t it more like I fell in love with two incredibly hot, powerful men and dragged you along with my decisions?” Regis added.

To be fair, it didn’t take long for Regis to explain to Kaidan the feelings he felt for Zaeed, and once he was done, Kaidan told him point blank that he found him attractive too.  And later that evening… Regis was in bed with Zaeed.

Good times.

“Doesn’t matter how it started.  Only thing that matters is how it ended up in the end,” Kaidan said with a grin, moving to kiss Regis after Zaeed settled back down beside him.  “I am glad I was able to talk to her, if only for my younger self’s sake,” Kaidan continued, fixing the blanket over them.  “Good thing my meeting didn’t go over as much as I thought it would.”

“What was it about anyway?  Considering you said it couldn’t be a goddamn email, it must’ve been a little important.”

“More stuff about our return to Arcturus and what that means for staffing, the program… all that boring shit as you like to call it,” he replied.  “Nothing crazy, just part of the routine.”

“Already planning the curriculum you want me to teach?” Regis teased.  

“Possibly.  Might keep you on as an adjunct.  I don’t think you can tolerate dealing with kids all day.”

“Eh, I can always split my time between the Villa and the Alenko Academy since we’ll be in Sol,” Regis mused.  “Hell, I might enjoy working with kids.  Dealing with N recruits is basically the same thing!”

“And where do I fit into this?” Zaeed asked with a chuckle.  

“You loved the Villa when we visited.  Hell, they’ll be happy to have someone who can help recreate training sims with crazy scenarios,” Regis said.  “Or you can be our loving husband.  Whichever suits you best.”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured.  “Peace sure is nice.”

“Yeah,” Regis said, sprawling out between his husbands.  “It sure is.”

Later that evening, Miranda sent him a link to a glowing review of their program, made by an anonymous RA.

This program has given me the opportunity to live my life the way I want to. I encourage anyone who needs a refit within the L2 generation to look into getting a work-up done to see what will work best for you. While I personally chose to remove my L2 and replace it with something that will give me as close to a biotic-free life as possible, that's not the only option for us. I could've gotten a better model that will help me fine-tune my biotics with fewer advers eeffects. Along with their endorsement by the Alenko Academy, I see no reason to not use their services as a human biotic of any generation. Shepard, Lawson, T'Lara, and the rest of their team are gifts to our community, and I hope they can change the lives of many others.

She followed the request with a call.

"Happen to know who this is from?" she asked in greeting.

"I might," Regis replied, watching Kaidan and Zaeed move around in the kitchen, heating up their leftovers and putting together some frozen cookie dough Regis had made a couple of nights prior. "Old classmate of ours from BAaT."

"We've had a few BAaT participates come in, haven't we? But it's been months. Why now, other than to give a longer term view... it just got me curious."

"Now that's going to be a long story in of itself," Regis admitted. "Take a rain check on that?"

She laughed. "Sure, Regis. You don't have to tell me all the details about BAaT. Enjoy your evening."

"You too, Miranda. Say hi to Ashley for me."

"Will do. She's definitely ready to kick all your asses in the range."

"I look forward to it. Why don't you join us for a round? Maybe we can have a big Armax meetup while we're still on the Citadel."

"Sounds great! I won't take up any more of your time."

She ended the call, and Regis got up to surprise his husbands and their cooking, making sure they don't mess up his favorite cookie dough recipe.

Maybe things are okay, if she left that kind of review. He wondered for a moment what Kaidan may have said to prompt that, but cast that thought out quickly.

BAaT and nearly everything about it is best left in the past.

Except for the gift it gave in the form of Kaidan.

[lieutenantabrudas]

I Know You

wrote a thing for the shrimp skwad monday game prompt that ended up WAY longer than one message, lol. the prompt was:

Your blorbos meet their younger selves due to Comsic Bullshit™️ - how does that go? Is it bittersweet? Do they take a moment to feel proud of how far they've come?

hilariously everyone took bets on which of 3 possibilities i was most likely to do. unfortunately for them now i'm gonna do all three, for fun :) the correct guess that i was already working on tho was exdiff desolas, now 90 years old as of mid-itlog, talking to his younger self maybe a few weeks prior to wake me when it's over. couple references are made to that fic, but it's not required reading, you can guess pretty easily what's being talked about.

Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Desolas Arterius Warning(s): Alcohol (mentioned), suicidal ideation, severe depression, loss & grief, very brief but graphic memory of gore Word Count: 1,189

It was true, he guessed. From a distance, he really hadn't aged a day.

Up close, he knew, there was a difference. His plates were cracked, his eyes had never recovered quite that brilliant electric blue, his nasal plates would never sit straight again. General Arterius was beautiful in his heyday, but it had been a very long time since Desolas was young.

It had to be a dream, that was the only explanation. He didn't think he was dying, not unless something had crept up in his sleep, and he didn't recall drinking anything in a few months.

He certainly hadn't gone to bed in his grandmother's old apartment building, either.

The rooftop he'd opened the bedroom door to was like an old friend. An old, toxic friend who just kept dragging him down no matter how bad things got, but an old friend nonetheless. The six-pack of flavored horosks was another one, sitting right next to his younger self like he could step right into his old body and have a drink.

He'd only ever come up here for one reason. He sat down next to himself instead.

The eyes sunken into the haggard face that turned to glance at him were too tired to register much surprise. Young Desolas - Dei-Dei, that's what his parsaepat had called him, and Titaup too - looked him up and down, taking him in, then returned to the dizzying drop ahead. His legs kicked faintly against the brick. "Dream."

It wasn't a question. Desolas nodded, hiked one knee up to rest his heel on the ledge, watched the traffic below right with him. "Dream," he confirmed.

Dei-Dei rocked slightly. How far off was he, at this point, Desolas wondered - was this the start of his descent, or the night before Parmat barely stopped him in time? Maybe it didn't matter. The days had all blurred together, back then. "How old are you?" he asked, voice small and broken, still in pieces after his screaming. Recent, then.

Desolas tipped his head. "Does it matter?" He remembered the little pink thing bumbling past, maybe - a little old drake with three boxangk loose in the backseat, or had that been the single mom?

Dei-Dei scowled. Had he really been so angry? "How long do I have?"

Ah. Desolas flicked one mandible. "Ninety, next harvest."

Dei-Dei rumbled and rested his chin on his knee. "This is gonna be some trite it gets better shit, huh. 'Don't jump, it'll all work out in the end, it's gonna be okay,' just fuck off and leave me alone."

His heart jerked in his chest. It was odd, hearing his own voice out loud instead of through vibrations. Desivius might have been Valis's shadow, but he'd gotten his old man's voice. He took a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah. It getting better later don't mean it doesn't hurt now. I know." Old, far-off, unhappy things scratched at the door he'd closed them behind, and he let his eyes flutter shut. "Nobody knows what to say to make it stop hurting, 'cause nothing can."

He got a low, snuffling inhale in response. Guess he and Saren had had that in common, even if he'd hated to admit it back then.

They sat in silence for a little while, just watching the traffic buzz past, until Dei-Dei mumbled, "So, does it?"

Desolas paused, then opened his eyes and turned to regard him. For a heartbeat, just the barest blink, Dei-Dei's face was stained red again, and he could feel the batarian's throat between his teeth, his intestines beneath his claws. Then his gizzard twitched, and it was gone, leaving just the broken husk of a child the man he'd become had been forced out of before his time. He sighed. "It does, kid, but it's gonna get a whole lot worse before it does."

Dei-Dei blinked, then looked up at him, eyes popping open. "You're not supposed to say that," he scolded, baring his teeth.

Desolas snorted quietly. "Nah, but it's in-character, ain't it? You're fucking depressed and need help you're refusing to get, your vision of your older self ain't gonna be all sunshine and rainbows." He waved a hand. "Just listen, stupid."

Dei-Dei drew back, offense ringing through his subvocals, but after a moment, he grudgingly settled, curiosity winning out. Desolas shook his head and continued. "Shit's gonna suck, okay? And I mean really suck. This ain't gonna be the last time you think about ending it, I promise you that. The galaxy's gonna chew you up, spit you out, and come back for another round, again and again and again. You think you feel like shit now? Kiddo, this is just the beginning. This is gonna be the closest to normal you feel for a long, long time."

Dei-Dei's nasal plates flared and his brow plates dropped, but Desolas raised a hand. "But," he warned, "but it's not the end, and don't you fucking dare give up on it, got it? Mal, Lup, Heavy - you haven't been answering their messages, but they keep texting, yeah? They care about you. They're your fucking friends. Life's gonna take you guys down different paths, but they're your ride-or-die, friends to the bitter end. And they won't be the only ones. Hate to break it to you, but that snot-nosed little brat downstairs is gonna make one big fucking splash, and before you know it, you're gonna be watching his star shoot across the sky. You're both going down in history, and you have to stay alive to see it happen, yeah?"

The words were catching in his throat, so he paused to breathe for a second. "There's gonna be some officers, some who believe in you like nobody else will, who're gonna see who you can be, not just who you are now, and want to be there to see you become him. And... and there's one more." Golden plates flashed in his mind's eye, and he took a deep breath. "You'll know her when you meet her, believe me. Bitch hits like a fucking freight train. But she's gonna come along, and you're not gonna get along at first, but you're gonna sleep right again with her, and she's gonna be there to catch you when you fall. She's your ticket back out of this hole, do you understand me? She's gonna offer you her hand, and your stupid, self-centered ass better fucking take it, 'cause nobody's gonna believe in Desolas fucking Arterius quite like she does, and you're gonna need every ounce of strength she's got in those big fucking biceps to pull you out of here."

Dei-Dei recoiled from his intensity, but his eyes shone with something Desolas knew damn well would never appear there again for a very long time. He was quiet for a little while, then managed a hoarse, "When?"

Desolas blinked. "When do things start getting better? Eh..." Shit, he'd never been good at math. "You're gonna have to get outta the hastatim, kid. But when's the rope getting thrown down?" He considered, then lifted one mandible. "Your next stationing's on Taetrus. Go for gold, kiddo." 

[solarsavoy]

*Slides into ask box*

So like, remember when I told you that I had a whole bunch of secondary Isogai and Maehara ships? Welp, time to get some of them out there!

So there’s this ship called MaeChi which is Maehara x Chiba and I thought it was really cute so for ship Sunday, how about you share your take on that? (Unless if you already have another request than that’s perfectly fine)

*Slides away*

Okay, so I've held onto this ask for like, 7 months now. I'd really never thought about how these two would interact and most of it stems from how little I know Chiba, however, writing up that Algebro group text gave me some ideas.

I'll start by saying that I think Chiba would be really dense when it comes to relationships, initially. As in where other might assume they're in a relationship with him, he'd probably just assume they're still friends until something is physically said about it. Like "hey, we're dating now. You cool?" It's gotta be direct and I think he might blush a bit and then smile and then just... go with it.

I think Chiba is super reserved, so getting to know the real him would take a lot of time and patience, and imo he's probably the most patient person ever, so you'd have to somehow beat that. It's why I ship ChiHaya so heavily. These two seem happy to simply exist around each other without expectations. Sure, it's hard to get these two to communicate, but they'd probably just sit in limbo for decades and for the most part, be perfectly content with how things are.

But this isn't about ChiHaya.

So, for Maehara and Chiba, I can definitely see Maehara being the one to pull all the moves, but I also see him being indirect about it for the sake of "smoothness". So he'd ask Chiba out on a date, but he wouldn't call it a date, so Chiba would just think they're hanging out as friends. Unless it's something Chiba really doesn't want to do, he'd probably say very little and Maehara would just run the whole show. And because Maehara has his own density issues... I think it'd take him a while to realize he's essentially dating himself and Chiba is just sort of there to witness it. XD

When Maehara does finally "make it official" either by trying to kiss him or straight up asking him if they're dating, I see Chiba taking his time on deciding something that big. Throughout they're whole "hanging out" time, he'd probably feel like Maehara doesn't really know him, and probably won't take the steps to try to get to know him, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't at least give it a shot.

Maehara would probably be really into Chiba playing guitar and want to learn, but I don't think Maehara would be really good at it. 😅 Which would then prompt him to learn the bass because it's easier.

I see these two getting really close (not physically though) in high school and then later mutually deciding to just be friends. Chiba entertains Maehara's obsession with the Algebros and even though it doesn't seem like it on the outside, the backbone of the group is actually these two. Without Chiba, Maehara would be a one man show Algebro. In the very few times Maehara just needs a quiet place to think, he'd definitely go to Chiba and just exist for a while. And sometimes, Chiba is able to give him the advice he needs, despite all Maehara's problems being relationship problems and Chiba would be considered "inexperienced". Even so, as adults I see these two being those friends that only talk once every year or so, but they always hang out as though high school was just yesterday. 💙

Sorry again for the long wait, but I hope you like the response! (Willing to bet you forgot you even asked this. XD I'm sure it was back in October or something.) Love you, Hailey!

[gaybitchfx]

I posted 2,768 times in 2022

That's 2,763 more posts than 2021!

2,699 posts created (98%)

69 posts reblogged (2%)

(69 hehe)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@secretivemessenger

@reallyromealone

@jkloserdazai

@showandtelltime

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I tagged 1,146 of my posts in 2022

#kay★rants - 266 posts

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Longest Tag: 129 characters

#oh entonces quieres ir allí perra? por eso eres la personificación literal de tener una maldita piedra en tu puto zapato perraaaa

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Can you do Mikey x male reader,

Like reader always makes fun of Mikey because of his height and the way he acts, and then a few years later Mikey just fucks reader,

Top Mikey and bottom reader. Thank you 💖

A/n: Nah because I just got a that little funny feeling in my stomach when I read your request 👀 but I’ll def write that for you! Hope you enjoy!

IT’S NOT FUNNY!

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589 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

#4

シMY MASTER LISTシ

I DONT WRITE FEM READER

1) The most important thing here is no hate and to just have fun and enjoy whatever bizarre shit I write! You may have your own opinions, but please don’t comment anything negative. I want my page to be welcoming and comfortable for everyone!

2) I do NOT write the following; pedophilia, incest, r@pe, all the characters I write about have to at least be 18 and up or if they have a time skip! Unless I’m writing fluff and angst I will write about characters of any age!

3) I’m not writing anything nasty. If your request has something I don’t like I will tell you.

4) Everyone is welcomed besides people that sexualize mlm and nblm. I mostly write x Male Reader stuff since there aren’t as many things of x male readers in here! But the thing is I don’t write x female reader content because there’s tons of it and because I don’t feel comfortable writing that kind of stuff. All sexuality’s are accepted! As I said before I wanna make my page as comfortable to everyone as possible!

5) Have fun! I love each and everyone one of you as if you were my own children! I also allow vents and rants in my messages whenever you don’t have someone to talk to! I just really want to make my readers feel loved and appreciated more then anything! Every single one of you make me happy and I appreciate that!

6) I have a limit to how many people I write for:

1-2: Definitely can do it

2-3: Might take me some time but I’ll do it

3-4: Mmm I’ll see what I can do

5 and up: I will be flabbergasted and start crying

Masterlist of all my fanfics: 1/2, 2/2

Events

Kinktober

Smut Prompts

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597 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

#3

Omega Mikey trying to court himbo alpha reader but readers dumb as hell and it takes Mikey practically screaming it at him

Any Mikey will do I'm not picky

Note: It’s the fact I started rubbing my hands together while chuckling and I’m finna do Kanto Mikey since Kanto Mikey is everything

CAN'T TAKE A HINT?

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598 notes - Posted August 18, 2022

#2

Tumblr is fucking with me so idk if the req I was writing went through— but here it is again rhjwshbw

can I request a Mikey fucking male reader 😭 like male reader is shorter than Mikey are they are already in a relationship and Mikey suddenly felt possessive so decided to fuck his baby boy dumb 😣

A/n: Tumblr acts stupid all the time so half the time I don’t even know if I got a request or not 😭 So sometimes I think it’s better to just send me request via messages so I can actually get them.

POSSESSIVE SEX

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656 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Character(s): Eremite Daythunder

Type of reader: M!Reader

Category: Nsfw 😗✨

Warning(s): cuffing, table fucking, rough sex & crossdressing

Edited: ❌

Note: He’s just really hot okay? And ion know if that's his actual name but imma use it anyways

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765 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Mmm- I don’t like how I’m able to see my old posts 💀

[can-i-see-your-passport-please]

💘 for the prompt and what specifically would you change about it?

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

There are a few parts of "do you job and keep them safe" (WHICH I AM ALWAYS DOWN TO TALK ABOUT I PUT SOOO MUCH WORK INTO THAT SHIT) I'd change, but the one I can remember at the moment is: there's this one little part from canon that basically only me and my bestie have noticed, and I would 100% add in if I could because HOLY FUCKING SHIT BENREY GO TO THERAPY JESUS CHRIST HOLY FUCK. There's also two words- TWO FUCKING WORDS- in "You're still here, and you're beautiful to me" that I DESPERATELY want to remove because they kinda take some of the punch out of one moment and it frustrates me SO MUCH. Like, those two words don't add anything!! I didn't have to add them!! If I'd held back on saying those TWO WORDS, it would've made that one moment hit a lot harder because then, it would've been the first time I explicitly said it. (If you've read the fics you can DM me to ask what either of these specifically entail, since they're both related to the very dark and heavy subject matter of the fics)

The reason I don't change my fics after posting them (outside of some typos) is pretty well-summed up by CJ The X in their video on 7 Deadly Art Sins. In the section on Wrath, or "taking back what is no longer yours," he basically talks about how once you've released a work of art, once it's touched an audience, it is no longer just yours. It belongs to both you and the audience. It has altered their soul, and so changing parts of it would be taking their soul and fucking with it, morphing it. And even if it's a positive change, artists change their mind! You may think of something as a positive change now, but you're not static. Five years from now, you might look at that change and change it again, and then people who that work touched will just be like "Hey I hate this, stop changing this piece of art that has touched my soul, I fell in love with the ORIGINAL work you don't have to change it over and over." For an example of this, see George Lucas fucking with Star Wars (which was used as an example in CJ's video go watch that video right now).

And the reason I wouldn't like, rewrite a fic is because A) when I write, I generally consider the finished product really good, and B) even if, a year and a half from now, I looked at something like "If ten million fireflies lit up the world as I fell asleep" (my titles are so fucking long jesus) and went "This sucks actually, I can do better now" and rewrote it, a year and a half later I would look at that rewrite and go "This sucks actually, I can do better now" and rewrite it again. It'd just be an infinite loop for what would be at the very least a very similar product. It's not like redrawing art, where you can SEE the improvement in lighting/shading/anatomy/whatever. When you redraw art, everyone can see "Holy shit, they've improved in this way or that way, their art style has changed in this way or that way," it's easy to understand. But unless it was like, ten years in the future, I feel like if I rewrote a fic, spotting differences would be, at the very least, difficult. It'd be kinda useless. If you wanna see my writing improving over time, read my writing over time and see how it improves.

This got off-track. Anyway djnsfjndksn

[awellboiledicicle]

Just realized The Young Master will have to pick a name at some point and all I can imagine is this fuzzy hulking adolescent space bat insisting it should be Mr. Case because of the upper and lower cases on printing presses.

This is generally fine but Pages feels it's too broad, unless it aims to mean all cases. Like luggage. You know, hoping to stir some more ambition in its child.

This prompts the Most Offended Rant about how it doesnt WANT to be broad, but too many things have the same WORD in English and how english is STUPID and it cant be Mr. Words because that is only vaguely related and it cant be Mr. Type because it wants phonographs too. And sure, if its handling type writers its not going to have the cases in the same way but, see point one: English is stupid.

This results in both bats pouting for a few hours. Young Master bc its frustrated and Pages because its overwhelmed with the realization that its child threw out Mr. Words without even hinting it wanted to take Pages job.

"Fourty years of raising and our young won't even consider deposing me!" It moans, head eclipsing its partners lap as it reclines in their nest. Its expression is distraught, though its partner is not entirely sure why. Another cultural thing, he assumes. A soothing pet between its horns seems to relax it a touch. "It should be planning to outstrip me in wealth and status-- instead it plots to lend..."

Its eyes narrow as if something sour had crawled through its teeth.

"... cooperation."

"Not embellishing tonight, love?" He ignored the withering look shot up at him and took to scratching slowly through Pages' neck fluff in small circles. "I think its sweet, our pup wanting to help."

Pages expression hardened and gripped his wrist, eyes suddenly fierce.

"Sweet does not have a place for us. It is weakness to act this way before its place is established!" It shook his arm a little as its voice managed to rise in pitch. "If it is to survive, to maybe one day see the Wilderness--"

Here it sat up and hunched, back firmly to him. It took a few measured breaths before turning back to its partner, eyes now full of an alien misery that took it whenever it thought too long on the High Wilderness. When it continued, its voice was hard.

"It must never assume kinship will mean friendship, safety." A beat of silence, followed by a wry look stealing over its muzzle. "It is more human than I... anticipated. You thwart me again."

Shaking his head, he took Pages' hand in his own, fingers tracing the boney joints.

"Kids will be what they will-- best we can do is steer. One day you'll get back to your Wilderness and it'll be with you." Pages opened its mouth, but was cut off with a knowing look and a squeeze. "You will see it again, love, even if I can't go with you-- our pup can. I know it's hard, teaching them how to be a curator when their human comes out. But you're doing great, for having to teach someone that's half me."

"You, too, are too soft." The statement lacked the heat of any actual admonishment. It gently ran a claw along his cheek, seemingly lost in thought for a long while. "Perhaps an alliance is not as disastrotrophic as I feared."

"There's my Pages." A warm smile helped ease the Master back into his lap, though the mood was now more solemn than tense. He restarted his slow scratches and earned a hum, Pages' eyes drifting almost closed. "It'll be fine. At worst we tell it to treat everyone like they're Fires after the union pamphlets."

"That.. might not be a terrible course of action."

Meanwhile Young Master is debating if Mr. Ink would be too close to Pages deal or no. Mr. Mechanism, because... mechanisms? No, no, that's not it. Maybe Case is fine, actually. And maybe it could branch out later to detectives because they work cases-- wait, parent has Reliables. Fuck. Names are hard. It gives up and steals a watermelon from Apples.

[queenofmoons67]

Prompt Guidelines: Updated!

Whooo finally sat down to write this out! Ok everyone, it has been <checks old post> two and a half years since I wrote out my original guidelines. In that time, I've learned a lot about how I handle prompts and how other people handle them, and it's time for a few changes. They're good ones though! (And they're small, most things are staying the same.)

So! The new guidelines:

My prompts are open.

This will probably never change. I like seeing new prompts come in, because it a, lets me know what people want at any given time, and b, can hit me with a spark of inspiration when I need it the most.

What prompts can you ask?

The fandom most of my followers probably belong to is MDZS. But I've been writing fanfic a long time (more than a decade!) and I have written in a lot of fandoms. Some of the more significant ones are:

Tiger and Bunny, BNHA, AkaYona, Daiya no Ace, Alex Rider, BBC Musketeers, Warrior Cats, Merlin, Castlevania, The Hardy Boys, ATLA

You can also browse my AO3 (linked in my header) or just ask if I'll write for a fandom.

In terms of types of prompts, I take all kinds!

Want to put a certain character in a certain situation? Alternate universe? Favorite trope? Ask away!

Know a character or relationship but aren't sure of the situation? Check out my tag "prompts open"; there are quite a few ask lists in there, and it's where I'll put new ones. (Just please give the actual prompt, and not a number or anything; I've reblogged so many it's hard to tell sometimes, lol).

Just remember, if you give me two (or more) characters to work off of, let me know if you want them to be platonic or romantic!

That's about it for prompt types. The rest of this post is some housekeeping explanations and general rules.

I do have a backlog of prompts.

When I first started taking prompts, I said I would let people know privately if I wasn't interested in them. That... never really happened. The truth is, I like keeping prompts around, even if they don't spark something in the moment, because they might spark something later. If I'm searching for inspiration, those waiting prompts are the perfect place to start.

However, because of how writing works, some prompts will take longer than others to answer.

Please be patient, and if you really want me to write something and I haven't answered your prompt, feel free to send in a different one! That might spark something when the other one didn't. Also, I might just answer both your prompts eventually.

I have written multiple prompts for people in the past, and I don't mind it one bit: Those people are like my regulars! I'm happy to see them (or you) come back and ask for more.

Hm... I think that's it for housekeeping, so moving on to general rules:

I will not write anything explicit except if you tell me it's ok. I don't know what your boundaries are unless you tell me, and I never want to cross them in a fic you prompted. However, this rule is generally for things like gore and violence. And boundaries go both ways:

I reserve the right to refuse a prompt if it makes me uncomfortable. My hard no is sex (pretty much anything rated over T). Otherwise, though, it just depends on where the chips fall (what kind of prompt it is, if it's a ship I don't like, etc). It's not a reflection of you, it's my own squicks and dislikes, so:

If in doubt, just ask! The worst that happens is I say no and you try again.

That's all folks!

Thank you for reading, and thank you in advance for the prompts! I can’t wait to fill them!

P.S. To find any filled prompts, you can browse my tumblr page, or go directly to the “Tumblr Prompt / Ask Box Fill” series on my AO3 (linked in my header).

[mcrmadness]

Interests changing and evolving is so weird. Normally whenever I go to sleep, I have to think about something while I try to fall asleep (even if it takes me less than 1 minute to actually fall asleep) and usually I have absolutely nothing to think about but fanfic scenarios. But not for a few weeks, I haven't find any of those scenarios motivating at all. Everything is the same over and over again, very boring stuff, stuff I have already seen so many times and I just have no interest in watching those "videos" yet again.

Now I have also been thinking about my fanfics, and what that means in regards of them. I feel like it's been ages since I have updated any of my fanfics, but my calendar tells me it's actually been less than 2 weeks. Anyway, I feel like not even my fanfics are doing it to me anymore. Long time ago I stopped reading fanfics because I couldn't find what I wanted to read, and I kept writing myself. Now I feel like there's no point in writing, because I don't need that text anymore? I bet it has again something to do with me being aroace. My texts has gotten more and more into the QPR direction, and I literally don't know what else to write about, and now I feel even less and less like writing fluff. I don't even feel like imagining fluff scenarios anymore. I can't see them properly either anymore. And I'm left with friendship scenarios, which are so boring to me, that it makes no sense. I mean, I have a hard time finding stuff for myself to do, even more so for me and friends, so it's even harder to come up with stuff characters in a story could do. What is there that you can write about movies or books? Not much, unless you go into details of one, which is not the point of a fanfiction (or any fiction) because it's not about those stories.

I haven't drawn much anything either. I did a shitton of shippy doodles and comics but I either got an overdose of those or just fulfilled the need for fluffy pictures, and now I don't have any of that either. I sometimes feel like asking for doodle prompts, but then don't do so because it'd be the same prompts again and I'm bored. I want something new and different. Fortunately, with these this is possible. My comics and doodles are supposed to be funny and make people smile and laugh. I'd love to have that with fanfics too, but I'm unable to do so because I can't come up with any plot to wrap inside humour.

Anyhow, I don't know what this means. Maybe it's just autumn approaching and I will get a random inspiration and hyperfocus on a fanfic sooner or later. But might also be that I won't do so. Right now, I have no interest in my fanfics. Tomorrow? Who knows. I don't know how my interests work. They come and go constantly, sometimes they go and never come back. 10 years ago this happened with fanfics and I thought I grew out of them for good, but then it came back 5 years later.

In a way I think I'm again looking for some change and new things to do. My school continues soon and the year will be very busy one, but at least it's other stuff to think about and doing things I've never done before. It's what keeps me feeling like I'm alive. With drawing I will continue with my comics, just don't know to which direction. I also think I need to get back to coloured pencil drawings, it's still a challenge and a medium I've yet to conquer. Just like watercolour too, I want to test some things at some point. And I love markers, I definitely need to get myself some more of these, I'd love trying to do a realistic but coloured portrait with them, as so far I have just been doing b&w ones (because I don't have enough colours yet for a coloured drawing). They just are so expensive, and I'm trying to figure out if that one really recommended cheaper brand would be worth buying or not. I just want to know if they smell stronger or the same/less as Promarkers, cos Copics are or used to be way too strong for me and I can't use markers with too strong odour.

But yeah. No idea what I'm gonna do with my fanfics. Rn they just feel like absolutely nothing to me. None of the events in them make me feel anything at all. So I guess they're on a hold for now, unless my adhd decides otherwise. Which can happen in a matter of days, or years, or then never.

[the-wardens-torch]

FFXIVwrite2022 Prompt # 25: Free Day (haven’t thought of a real title and I’m too tired to proofread it, let alone name it.)

I... actually did it. I think it stands okay on its own if you don’t feel like reading three times as much text, but since its technically part of a trilogy, here are the first two parts;

Forgiven (from FFXIV2019)

Laughing Steel (from FFXIV2020)

Anyway - content warning for a rape mention and a bit of graphic language

***

“Look, Al… you know I don’t know when to shut up.”

“But I do know that when you do shut up, something is wrong. And you’ve  been a little quieter than usual.  So unless something really really changed about you over the last few years… Something‘s on your mind, and has been for years.” Alain said.  The attentive sincerity in his brown-violet eyes was still there, and given what had happened, it hurt to look at him.

“How the fuck are you still being so nice?” Fal cast his gaze into the stark, deep shadows in the plaza below. Fal clasped his hands in front of him, all but obscuring them in the sleeves of the red Ala Mhigan garment Al had draped across his shoulders just moments earlier.

“I just missed you, Fal.  That’s all.  You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and we haven’t seen each other for years.  Even if you never want to say a word about the last time I saw you, I’m just glad to see you now.”

“I practically raped you, Alain!” Fal spat the words with uncharacteristic violence, purging them from where they’d been festering inside of him for years. “You were feeling guilty about letting me get hurt in Copperbell, and I used that guilt to get myself a pity lay like some sort of… lazy jackal going after a tame aldgoat on a hobble.”

Fal shut his eyes and squeezed his hands together so hard that they hurt.

“No…” Alain piped up tentatively. “ I didn’t think… you could rape someone… from the … um, receiving end.”

Fal snorted loudly as something between a bemused laugh and a scream of frustration tore up from his throat and through his sinuses, causing some of the people on the streets below to look up in alarm.

“Really, Al?  I appreciate what you’re trying to do here but me bottoming doesn’t matter. The problem is that I never asked you. I just grabbed your dick and told you to get busy.”

“I didn’t say no, did I?” Alain said.

Fal’s face was hot and his hands were shaking now.  Shame was not an emotion that came easily to him, and Alain trying to hide in the gray zone of it all made him feel so, so much worse.

“You’re just… Too pure for this world, aren’t you?” Fal shook his head. “And then I felt even worse later when I remembered what you’d told me before the whole Copperbell fiasco.  About still being a virgin?  I always thought the concept of virginity meant fuck all and I remember you saying that you don‘t care much about it either, but whether it matters to you or not, for better or for worse… You never forget your first time.”

Alain stayed quiet.  Fal could hear the sounds of his fingertips drumming against the sandstone wall they were sitting on.  It was excruciating. He either had to get out, or dig deeper.  

Fuck it, Fal. Just go for broke.  Overshare. It might make him laugh.  Just say something, for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t matter anymore. Can’t get much more awkward than this.

“Speaking of which, wanna know something really embarrassing? I lost my virginity to a whore twice my age. That my mother hired. I’ve never told anyone.”

Fal looked up to find Alain staring at him.  His expression was hard to make out in the fading light, but it looked like shock.  But shock was better than a lot of alternative emotions.

“Are you kidding me, Fal?  I mean, I knew you worked in a bawdy house that those sorts of people frequented, but… why? Really?

“Yeah. She said it was a tradition of her tribe for an older, more experienced woman to ‘initiate’ a boy into manhood before he could do anything stupid that might get him into trouble. I was 14 at the time so all I could think of was how damn lucky I was to be ahead of the game. A big experienced man who got to fuck before all the other kids even had a full set of pubes.”

“14?  That’s… not right.”

Fal sighed.  He had always suspected that it had been a mistake for his mother to arrange such a thing, and hearing someone agree with him was more validating than he had ever imagined.

“Yeah, I guess was pretty sick.  Maybe that’s got something to do with why I did… what I did. What made me bring it up is that what I did to you, was your first time.  It wasn’t what you wanted, and I knew it.  But I pushed you to it anyway. Just like someone pushed me. I didn’t see you again the next day, or the next, and when you still weren’t there after they booted me from the infirmary, I thought I’d driven you away forever by being a self-centered little prick.”

“Fal.  You wanna know the truth of it?“ Alain gently grapsed Fal’s shoulder and leaned a bit closer.  His mouth was curved in a smile, but his eyes still held that hint of sadness.

“I did it because… I thought it was what you wanted. You were my favorite person in the world, and I‘d just failed you by letting you get hurt. I thought you were going to die. But you didn‘t, and if that was the first thing you wanted to do when you felt better, who was I to say no?”

“I thought I wanted it too, Al. And are you really asking me who you are to say no? You’re you, that‘s who.  Alain.  Alain Daltamar. You own yourself and you can always say no, especially if its something someone else wants from you that you don’t want to give. Shit, and now look at you, you’ve gotten so caught up in making me feel better that you don’t even think you deserve an apology. But you do.  I’m sorry.”

Fal mirrored Alain’s sad smile.

“I don’t doubt that, Fal.  Every ilm of you looked sorry from the moment you recognized me in the marketplace. And  Fal, you know I’ve always been a lousy liar, so I won‘t deny why I didn’t come back was because I was angry and hurt, but I didn‘t feel like I… deserved to be? I didn’t come back was because… I just didn’t know what to say.”

Fal touched Al’s chest gently with one finger, right above his heart.

“I’m flattered but your heart is the only part of you I want to be inside of? And only metaphorically?”

Alain grasped Fal’s hand and burst out into his signature clear, clean laughter.  Fal hadn’t heard it in years. When the laughter subsided, he patted Fal’s hand amiably before releasing it.

“I guess so, but its not that exactly.  Well, it is that, but I don’t really want to… do that… with anyone, to be honest.  I haven’t done it again since.” Alain’s speech was halting. The lamplighters had begun to light the plaza below, and Fal could his face become clearer and clearer against the encroaching light.

“I’ve had opportunities…” he continued. “People find you very sexy when you’re a Bloodsands gladiator, even if you’re like I was and never made the top ranks. But it just… didn’t feel right. My body didn’t want it and my mind wanted it even less. Not with men, with women, or anyone else.”

Fal went silent for a moment as bits of his own love life tumbled through his mind.  Sex was great.  Sex was fun. But had he ever really even considered that the alternative was okay too? He looked up at the sky. The sun had dipped behind the city walls and was no longer visible, but even in its absence it turned the sky a deep ocean blue. He put his arm around Alain’s shoulder, and Alain returned the gesture without a second thought.”

“Al, even if you railed me into the next astral era, it wouldn’t make me nearly as happy as this does.”

And with that rapid and filthy subject change, it was like no time had passed at all. 

Gods, he had missed that laugh.

((THAT’S RIGHT I FREAKIN DID IT AAAHHHH. And then they show up to Pride arm-in-arm and Alain is wearing an ace flag and Fal is wearing a pan flag. Also Reonora is on his other arm with her lesbian and/or bi flag if Adeat says its okay. Fal has two arms after all. And now he knows that both of his BFFs love him but not in that way, and he can be at peace.))

[nocapesdahling]

Congrats!! I’m sending this early because otherwise I’ll forget haha love that adhd. But “Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?” With Zemo please??

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this in and for being my first request!! I had a lot of fun writing this one, and hope you enjoy it!

Signs

Helmut Zemo x GN! Reader

Warnings/Tags: Reader is oblivious when it comes to flirting; Zemo is trying; A couple of references to implied sexual content if you squint; Mentions of canon-typical violence; Fluff; Featuring cherry blossom tea

Prompt: “Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

You first noticed something in Madripoor. It wasn’t obvious at first, or maybe you were as oblivious to stuff like that as Sam liked to joke you were. You’d heard it more than once from him over the years, “They were flirting with you. Didn’t you notice?” or “Damn, he was pulling out all the moves. What’d you think of him?”

Your answer was usually, “They were?” or “What moves?”, unless the person had been obvious in a way that was too noticeable to miss.

You didn’t see Zemo’s eyes lingering on your form while you took in his collection of cars. You didn’t realize that he’d been flirting with you on his private jet, though you’d seen Sam making the faces at you that he saved for the club or the bar to let you know that someone was attempting to flirt with you. Attempting being the key word. You hadn’t had time to think about it for long as Zemo had offered you champagne and a food that you’d never heard of before that he mentioned was a Sokovian delicacy. You were busy savoring the delicious flavor under Zemo’s approving eyes, and only realized afterwards that neither Sam nor Bucky had been offered any.

It took you until Madripoor when people started to shoot at your group that you finally noticed something. When Zemo darted to the right away from the shooting, he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him. You ducked into the alley, struggling to try to take your hand back as you ran. However, he was an immovable force, pulling you alongside him with his gloved fingers tight around yours as you moved further and further away from the gunshots and from Sam and Bucky. He leaned out of the alley to check for enemies before turning to you with a smile, “Well, that was exhilarating. Wasn’t it, draga?”

He let go of your hand, and something inside you mourned the loss of his fingers in yours. Pushing that thought aside for later consideration, you breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, attempting to get your bearings and knowing that you’d have to run again in a moment. You lifted your gaze from the ground when you caught a glimpse of his black boots and felt his warmth close to you.

“We have to move now. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Zemo. I’m ready.”

“As much as I’d like to, I won’t hold your hand again. Not now at least. We need to move quickly.”

You leaned out of the alley and looked both ways before starting to run, “Race you, Zemo.”

You heard a small chuckle as he used his long stride to draw even with you. “It’s Helmut, draga. If you’d do me the honor.”

You turned the corner and even as you sped up at the sight of the men in front of Sam and Bucky, you couldn’t help but savor his name. Helmut. It suited him. So yes, you realized that something might be up in Madripoor. You only knew for certain in Riga.

Helmut’s apartment was beautiful. The stained glass had mesmerized you as soon as you saw it, the tub was perfect for taking a long bath, and even the beds made you want to stay in them for hours. After all the adventures of the last few days, it was nice to come back to the apartment after trying to find out where Donya’s funeral was and collapse onto the couch. Your eyes drifted shut, and you were startled awake in what seemed like no time at all by the breaking of glass. You stirred and took in the scene of Bucky and Zemo confronting each other with Sam working to de escalate the situation.

As the others left the room, you listened for the distant sound of a door slamming and Sam’s faint voice speaking on his cell before sitting up. “I’d like some of that cherry blossom tea, Helmut.”

Zemo turned to you with a faint smirk, “Of course, draga. One cup of cherry blossom tea coming right up.”

As you sipped your tea, you took him in over the rim of the cup. It wasn’t the first time you noticed, but you couldn’t help but note to yourself again that his coat looked too good on him. It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to be noticing stuff like that about someone like Helmut Zemo, but you couldn’t seem to help yourself. Your eyes travelled up his neck, noting the moles and freckles and wondering what they’d feel like under your tongue, before reaching his face. As you met his knowing brown eyes, the gasp you let out was unintentional. The smirk he shot you on the other hand was full of intent. You glanced down again, taking a deep gulp of tea to try to stave off some of your embarrassment. It also meant you couldn’t talk, even as you tried not to cough.

“You look like you’re enjoying the tea.” His amusement showed through in his voice. “Though you may want to slow down a little. Don’t need you choking on me, draga.”

You almost choked for a different reason, imagining those words in a different context. Bad brain.

“Yes. It’s very good, Helmut. Thank you.” You looked at the bottom of the cup and wondered how you’d finished it so quickly as you placed it back down on the coffee table.

His chuckle broke the silence, “Your face, draga. It makes me wonder what’s going through your head.” When you didn’t volunteer your thoughts, he continued, “You can have more, you know? Even if we ran out, I’d make you more if you asked. I would get you whatever you wanted.”

“What are we doing, Helmut?” Once the words were out there, you wished you could take them back.

He placed his own cup down and stood up, moving to sit alongside you on the couch. He offered his ungloved hand and after a moment’s thought, you placed your hand in his.

“What are we doing? I think you know.”

“No, I really don’t. I never know. Why are you acting like this with me? And no one else?”

He threaded his fingers through yours and moved his other hand to grasp your face, gently tilting it up so you met his eyes. “Really, draga?” He looked at you as though waiting for a response, and when you gave none he continued. “Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

You thought back over Zemo’s past actions, and realized that to some people his intentions may have been obvious. There had been signs, and now that you thought about it you should have realized sooner. “No, not to me.”

“Oh, draga. I’ve been trying to get your attention for far longer than I’d care to admit.”

Without hesitation, you spoke. “You didn’t need to get my attention. You already had it.”

You leaned in to kiss him, meeting him halfway as he’d done the same. The last coherent thought you’d have for a while was, Sam may have been right, not that you’d ever tell him. When it came to stuff like this, you really were oblivious.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. Thanks for reading!!

A/N: If you’re interested in checking out the other fics I’ve written for Zemo, then please see my Masterlist below.

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

-

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out –”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

-

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

-

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

-

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

-

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

-

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

-

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

-

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

“We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

-

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

-

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

-

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

-

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

-

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

-

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

-

It was his father.

Of course.

-

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

-

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.

[joansiefics]

Hi! Can you please write prompts 24 and 29 (from the fluff section) with best friend Bucky please? The reader shows up at his apartment even though they canceled their plans together, but he ends up being glad that she came because they have such a cozy and enjoyable time. And maybe a bit of ✨feelings✨ work their way into the air as well. Thanks!

Perceptible-To-a-Super Soldier's Ears

BUCKY BARNES X READER

Prompt 24- “It’s pouring rain, why are you here?”

Prompt 29 - “Thank you for staying with me”

SUMMARY: Bucky cancels your traditional Saturday night plans after a terrible mission and you decide to surprise him at his doorstep.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Death and Killing

A/N: hey, I hope everyone is doing well!!! I'm sorry it took so long to write this (at least I'm back to writing requests in a week from getting them) I hope this is what you had in mind and that you are satisfied.

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When you were just a six years old girl, your innocence was exchanged for the horrible guilt of each killing HYDRA had forced upon you. And years later the vivid images of each life you ended - the victims' pleading faces, their eyes entrances to their bleeding souls in comparison to their pulped lips, the blood drizzling down their chin. Every little detail still imprinted into your memory, haunting you in your sleep.

When Steve first introduced you to the team, you were a shy, distrustful sixteen year old, talking only when necessary, hiding behind Steve when someone else entered a room or busy yourself in work to ignore the presence of others. With little to no talking and barely making yourself known, everyone still took a liking to you rather quickly, especially one ex-HYDRA-assassin. The Winter Soldier. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes.

The small lopsided smiles he exchanged with you from across the room, the quiet "good morning's" handed to you on a breakfast plate when he dishes up his plate from behind you, the silent conversations spoken between empathetic eyes and the first night he helped you calm down from a nightmare. These were all contributions leading up to the best friendship you never thought you'd find.

The night he calmed you down from your nightmare, he suggested a movie night - junk food, cuddling, talking and the best movies ever. And from that night on, it became tradition. After a long week's work you would hang out at each other's apartments, watch a movie, eat junk food, cuddle and talk about what there's to talk about. This continued for about two years and plans rarely got canceled, unless it was utterly necessary.

It was nearing the evening and you were searching for some clothes to put on before Bucky came over, when you got the phone call. "Hey Y/N" your heart contracted and relaxed hard against your ribcage at the sound of his voice. 'control yourself Y/N, it's just Bucky!!!' you steadied your breathing in hopes to calm your perceptible-to-a-super soldier's ears heartbeat before your voice traveled through the telephone line. "Hey, how was the mission?" you ask, putting on your last shoe. "That's why I called" you froze at his words, your heart rate accelerating at the thought of something going wrong on the mission. "What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Was it-" "Y/N" Bucky called for your attention "I'm okay" he let out a small chuckle at your concern, but then the line got dead silent.

You could hear your heart tearing a bit further with every few words spoken. "I know we would have hung out at your apartment tonight and all, but after today's mission I just need a break and I'm really tired and I don't want to get ready to leave my apartment now... So I was wondering if we could maybe continue our tradition next week?" "It's okay Bucky, I understand. I want you to sleep and get comfortable after your hard work. There will be many more Saturday nights for movie nights." you assured him. "You sure?" you don't miss the lingering sadness in his voice and the throat clearing as disguise for a small sob. "100% sure" "Thank you so much for understanding Y/N, it means a lot to me" "no problem...NOW GO LIE DOWN!!" you cover your strictness with an ending laugh, but your heart is shattered into uncountable pieces - 'I'm not seeing him tonight, just another week...maybe I can go check up on him tomorrow?'  "Yes mother... bye Y/N" "Bye Bucky" and then you hang up.

'The mission must have been terrible, why else would he cancel?' Then it streaks you - 'it was a HYDRA mission... he probably relived so many memories. He needs support through this time. That's why he sounded so sad to cancel!!' when you force your thoughts to stop and not make conclusions or bad assumptions you notice that you've already picked up your car keys and were halfway through the door.

------

In the car you push the key into the ignition and force the key right. Before you depart though you see the fuel gauge alerting you that your vehicle does not contain enough fuel for your trip to Bucky. "Damn it!" you hit the steering wheel, before yanking your door back open and storming out. 'Guess I'll have to walk then' you start your trip to the pizza place to pick up the usual pizza order. As you walk you can hear the thunder rolling in, hoping that you'll be snuggled next to Bucky when the storm starts and not be unfortunate enough to get caught in it.

------

"Thank you" you thank the lady handing you the pizza boxes and head out the door to your next stop - the small convenience store for some more snacks. The clouds were joining together fast, accompanying the howling wind and coloring the sky a dark grey. You wore goosebumps on your sleeves and let the wind blow your hair into different directions. 'Please don't start to rain before I get to Bucky'

------

While you chose out the snacks you could hear the faint dripping of the cloud's tears coming in contact with the roof and tar road. The smell of petrichor wafts through the air and twirls into your nose. For a moment you relax at the earthy smell, but then you remember "Bucky needs all the support he can get in this time' and you hurry to the cashier with the basket full of refreshments.

When you exit the convenience store it is pouring rain. 'Great, just great' you sigh and zip down your jacket to protect most of the food from getting wet. You run from one underroof location to the next, preventing being soaked to the bone, but the last underroof hiding to Bucky's apartment is quite the distance and you prepare yourself for the shower.

------

*knock, knock, knock*

Bucky opens the door, only to find you drenched on his doorstep. Bucky takes a quick glance outside his door to the wet outside world. "It's pouring rain, why are you here?" you don't know if you should take his words as an offense or as words of concern, but you go with the former. "I know you didn't wanna hang out, but then it struck me that it was a HYDRA mission and then you sounded so defeated over the phone, so I thought you might want some comfort or some food or both... and now that I think about it, it was stupid to come here in the first place, I mean after you told me that you wanted some rest and sleep and now I'm talking to much," you immediately stop your rambling when you see Bucky's face contort into one of adoration. "I think you read the situation right doll... why don't you come in and I can find you something dry and comfortable to wear?" he asks, already ushering you into his apartment.

"Why didn't you take the car?" Bucky yells over his shoulder as he searches through his closet for something you can wear. "I wanted to, but when I started the car I saw that I wouldn't have enough fuel to make it to here, sooo...." Bucky throws you a shirt and some sweatpants and you thank him before making your way to the bathroom to get changed.

"Which movie do you want to watch?!" Bucky asks through the bathroom door, pressing his ear against the wood, even though he could have heard you from anywhere with his super soldier hearing. "We don't have to watch a movie if you don't want to!" you yell back, silently giving Bucky the opportunity to decide what he wants to do after the heart breaking mission. "No, I want to... I mean you didn't get soaked for nothing" his laugh mends your broken heart. "Then you can pick the movie!" "Okay doll!"

------

When you're finished getting dressed you make your way to the living room, where you find Bucky huddled up in blankets, between the pizza boxes and snacks, with the movie ready to start. You make yourself comfortable next to him and snuggle into his chest. 'remember this is all about Bucky, make him feel special, he shouldn't make me feel special' "Do you want to talk about the mission before we start the movie?" you politely ask, worried for your friend's mental stability . "Well... when we were infiltrating the base, I just got these flashbacks about the innocent lives I've taken, I could see their pained faces and pleading eyes looking at the monster in front of them, and then I saw the room where they brainwashed me, it was all just to much for me"

You lift your head from Bucky's chest and take his vibranium hand into your hand, to show him that he is not a monster and neither a harmful soldier. "You are not a monster... do you see me as a monster?" "No" "Well then you shouldn't think of yourself as one, because I also killed those people, Bucky, I didn't have a choice and neither did you" you let a moment of silence follow for the words to sink into his mind and utter the last words "I love you for who you are Bucky and you should never forget that" "You love me?" "Uhh...yeahhh, and I have for the past two years, sine that first night you calmed me from my nightmare." you shyly fumble with the hem of your shirt, shocked at the confession that slipped past your lips. "And you're only telling me this now because....?" "because I didn't want to ruin our friendship, you're the only person I have left and I don't want to lose you too." You start to tear up at the thought of losing Bucky, but he is quick to soothe your fear "Who said anything about leaving? he takes your fumbling hands into his, gaining your attention. "I love you too Y/N, more than just a friend."

There's a few moments of silence exchanged between the two of you - the conversation playing on repeat in your minds, loving and longing looks shared and Bucky's thumb circling your wrist. "Y/N, I want to ask you something" "Go ahead" you are almost to afraid to listen to his words 'what if he doesn't want this?!' "would you like to be my girlfriend?" those seven words rocked your world and for the second time that day your heart shatters into pieces, but this time from the loud, excited thumping against your ribcage. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!!! I would love that Bucky!!!" you can't contain your excitement and it makes Bucky give you a proud, genuine smile.

------

After the movie, you were still cuddled  up to Bucky's side, resting your head on his chest and listening to the rhythmic beats of his heart. You were playing with his dog tags, tracing the engraved titles and flicking it between your different fingers. You let out a yawn and rub your heavy eyes. "How are you still not sleeping Bucky?" "It might take a while with all the memories floating inside my head, but I'll eventually fall asleep, don't you worry about me doll" "I'm always here if you need to talk okay? Even when I'm sleeping at 03:00 in the morning" you give him the only smile you could muster up in your tired state 'just imagine how tired he should be feeling' Bucky lets out a breathless laugh and the rumbling in his chest, sends shock waves straight to your tired and battered heart.

Your eyes flutter closed, but you once again force them open - perhaps you were scared that it was all just a dream and that when you woke up, you'd have to, once again, walk with the secret of loving Bucky and having no idea what to do with it. Bucky bends over and leaves a kiss at the top of you head "Thank you for staying with me" he whispers into your ear. "Always"

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